Maelstrom 25 Pilgrimage 2
by illmatar
Summary: Optimus Prime tries to put his head back together, Cylonus tries to put Galvatron head back together, and Rodimus tries to keep from tearing everything around him apart. What did you expect? This is Maelstrom. M for mature themes, VIOLENCE, some sex.
1. Chapter 1

Maelstrom Chapter 38  
Pilgrimage 2

Author's note: This story is part of a LONG series called Maelstrom. It is strictly Gen. 1 - sorry, but that was all that was out when I started writing back in the late 1980's. It began as a fan-publication so the first chapters are in the form of a comic book! If you have not read the nine original **Maelstrom Comics** and the preceding text stories, I strongly suggest you do. This is a complex universe. They can be found at http// illmatar. deviantart. com (I have put double spaces between the URL here or FF . Net eats the link.) The comics and art which accompanies this series are there.

**Most chapters of this series contain strong language and violence. Rated M for adult themes! Really! Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Critiques adored! This scene contains strong language, violence, and sex. Rated M for adult themes! **

**  
Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Story and OC characters are mine. Critiques adored!  
**

Pilgrimage 2 - Part A

"I don't like the way that looks at all, do you?" First Aid asked.

Ratchet shook his translucent head. "No I don't," he muttered. "You sure you don't have any of the Ark's old records? A baseline scan would be really nice right now."

"The Ark took all the old records when it blew," First Aid said distractedly, looking over Optimus' neural patterns again.

"The Ark blew?" Ratchet asked.

First Aid stopped to look at him, and Optimus Prime tried to turn his head to do the same. Distractedly, First Aid took hold of Prime's chin and turned him back to face the right way.

"I forget sometimes that you have another history," First Aid said.

"We should catch him up First Aid," Optimus said.

"Yes we should but if you don't lie still I'm going to tie your head down Optimus! I don't want to start over again!" First Aid cried, exasperated. This test was long, tedious, and on its third attempt.

"Trypticon destroyed the Ark in 2006," First Aid explained.

"I see," Ratchet said sagely. "Who's Trypticon?"

"This is gonna take a while," Rodimus remarked from another exam table.

"You hush and lie still too," First Aid snapped. He was very out of patience with his patients. "Just go with we have no baseline data on either of them. I know it's stupid, but we don't. Optimus hasn't had a full scan in years, and Rodimus hasn't had HIS neural pathways mapped ever as far as I know."

Three pairs of Ratchet's new "arms" went wild - waving erratically in the air for a few seconds before stopping. No one said anything, but First Aid turned to look at his new partner again.

"Sorry," Ratchet said, embarrassed. "I can't always control that.... I just can't believe we have no baseline to compare with. I mean, Optimus I sort of understand. If there was no need for those tests in the last decade or so, I can see how you wouldn't have them since they're not part of the annuals, but Rodimus! After he was turned human and all...I would have done every test in the book!"

First Aid sighed and nodded. "I didn't have that book Ratchet," he regretted. "We just need to work around it. We have to go by what we have. Two Primes, two headaches, and two neural scans showing cascading faults in their cerebral synapses. Hold STILL Optimus! Not to mention erratic behavior!"

"I don't think we're behaving erratically," Rodimus observed.

"Oh no?" Ratchet asked. "You think smashing your fa...your partner into the wall is normal?"

"For us it is," Rodimus said. "We beat each other up. We tear each other down. He's mean to me. I lie to him. Status quo. Right Op? Since the beginning. I got him killed you know...more than once. He hates me. I resent him. It's not erratic. It's consistent."

To the two listening, the worst part of this statement was probably the tone with which Rodi said it.

He wasn't being vindictive or spiteful, bitter or nasty. In his altered state of mind, this was an appropriate and accurate commentary on the state of things.

Optimus covered his face with his hands.

"Put your hands down Prime," First Aid said gently.

Optimus shook his head.

"At least he's not trying to run out of the room this time," Ratchet sighed, watching First Aid gently pull Optimus' hands away from his optics. Optimus and Rodimus had both been saying uncomfortable things all afternoon and took turns upsetting each other, although neither seemed to mean anything by it.

Optimus put his hands down and to all appearances got kind of happy for a moment. The neural scanners couldn't read emotions, but they could track changes in thought pattern. It was like someone had flicked a switch and the readings were all different, as was his demeanor.

"Rodi?" he asked, somewhat cheerfully.

"Hmm?"

"What...what would you be doing if you weren't doing what your doing?" Optimus questioned.

"I dunno. Tracking down that slaver truck I guess. Can we go soon?" Rodimus asked, trying to sit up.

"Oh I don't think so," Ratchet said, pushing him back down with his handy new hands. It was nice having extra sets, he decided, needing four of them to hold the young Prime down. First Aid knew better than to actually restrain Rodimus but that didn't mean Ratchet wasn't sorely tempted.

"No silly," Optimus said, reaching over to bop Rodimus lightly on the arm over First Aid's protests to be still. "I mean with your whole life. If you weren't Prime...if everything was...finished... and you could quit and do whatever you want. What would you do?"

"That's easy. I'd find a nice place to raise the girls and spend my time with my mate and my children," Rodimus said wistfully. "Silly isn't it? Used to be all I wanted was a life of adventure and now that I have one all I want is to settle down with my family." His optics dimmed way down.

Optimus looked at him compassionately. "You think about it a lot don't you?"

"Yeah," Rodimus said. "I've missed so much already." His voice was odd.

"That's...a very good dream Rodi," Optimus said. "There's nothing wrong with wanting that."

"I'm glad you approve, but it's never gonna happen, and every moment I spend thinking about it is a waste of time I should be spending making everything....finished," Rodimus said sadly. "Why are you asking? What would you do?"

"That's the thing," Optimus said. "I don't know. I don't remember my dreams."

x  
x  
x

Char:

Cyclonus was careful to keep his expression neutral as Galvatron stepped out of his suite behind the dias and took the throne. Evaluating the leader was an instinctive matter of survival on Char, and no one did it better than Cyclonus, but he was still surprised.

Galvatron's body language was different...relaxed. Smug. Well, he was often smug, but this time it seemed more immediate, as if the Con leader had something specific to be smug about rather than just be generally pleased to be... Galvatron.

There was something else too...the optics were focused. Steady. No sparks circled his head like an errant crown of diseased power. No random inappropriate expressions crossed his features. The look on his face was clear, cunning, and calculating. Cyclonus was amazed and a bit incredulous with himself. On the one hand he was always pleased to see something of Megatron on Galvatron's face. If using a young femme's body was what it took to encourage it, Cyclonus had no problem with that. Still, after all this time of trying to bring these traits out in his leader, he was finding them... disconcerting. Maybe it was because they were turned on him.

Retaining his usual demeanor of calm subservience grew a trillion times harder when Galvatron's private door opened and Adder slid out. Her thick, somewhat short snake form stood out against the dark walls of the throne room. She lifted her head, smelling the air suspiciously with her wide forked tongue, and then she explored the dias. Her metallic scales rasped slightly on the stairs as she made a full circuit around the throne. Cutting across the front, she actually ran her length over Galvatron's feet. He appeared not to notice. Finally, Adder wrapped herself around the base of the throne. She yawned, and for a moment it looked like her head would fold completely back on itself - revealing long fangs and ichor coated jaws.

Always one with an eye for detail, Cyclonus made somewhat panicked note of new pock-marks on the dias near where she was resting. Acid drips. Obviously Adder had been reposing there for a few days.

Cyclonus felt his somewhat overloaded mind having visions of Adder and Galvatron falling into Char's core and began making plans to replace the dias with something more acid-resistant. He was pleased though, that he managed not to change expression, even when he saw Galvatron was studying him as carefully as he usually studied Galvatron.

Ah. He was being tested. Pass or fail. Live or die.  
That was fine.  
That he could live with.

It was good he recognized the test when he did, or he might have jumped when one of Adder's live chew toys flew through the air from behind the dias as if tossed. Cyclonus was aware of each and every wriggling leg as the bug arced up from behind the throne towards Adder. She snapped it out of the air with a sickening crunch, and settled down immediately to work it between her jaws.

Viper stepped out from behind the throne. Unlike her sister, her muted colors almost blended into the throne itself. It was difficult to distinguish where her hand, laid casually on the backrest, started and the black metal of the throne began. She went around the throne to the right, sat her hip on the armrest, and leaned her sinuous body against Galvatron's.

She was beautiful with that powerful, deadly body and those vicious red optics. Cyclonus felt both drawn to her and resentful of her...with the resentment far exceeding the attraction. She was in his place, and she was smirking at him.

At the same time he was resigned. Galvatron's fears about his loyalty were unfounded. If Cyclonus was about to be killed, he accepted it. If he was about to be replaced...well...that was somehow harder to accept, but he would allow it if he had to...as long as Galvatron was secure on the throne. If his leader commanded he bow out to Viper, Cyclonus would do so, but he would watch. Protecting the Decepticon commander was always Cyclonus' first priority - even if it meant protecting Galvatron from himself.

"Where have you been Cyclonus?" Galvatron asked in a deadly whisper.

Lying right now was not an option, not that Cyclonus ever planned to. Look at those optics! he thought. It's like he's seeing right through me! In spite of his fear, some part of him was delighted.

"Cybertron," he said simply.

"Ah...yes. Cybertron," Galvatron said in a nostalgic tone. "Were you planning on running away from home Cyclonus? Thinking, perhaps, you might join Blitzwing amongst the Autobots?"

"Never, my Lord," Cyclonus said, bowing low. "I am your servant as always."

"You serve me by abandoning your post at my side? You see I had to find a substitute," Galvatron said mockingly.

"It was never my intention to be gone so long, Mighty One," Cyclonus said carefully, "and it is my Lord's prerogative to replace me whenever he sees fit."

"Why did you leave Char?" Galvatron asked, all trace of mockery gone. Time to report.

"My Lord, I feared we were not receiving truthful information for recent events on Cybertron, yet I also feared I was imagining things. It is unlike Optimus Prime to make false statements, so I chose to use my time off shift to seek answers."

"You saw fit to hide your activities?" Galvatron asked dangerously.

"I saw no reason to disturb My Lord with mere intuitions and speculations," Cyclonus said. "I intended to be back in time for my scheduled service but I was delayed."

"The Autobots found you?" Galvatron asked.

Cyclonus shook his head. "No my Lord, but nor did I succeed in my aims. I feel I was on to something, but the Autobots blew up the evidence. I was too close and got caught in the shockwave. I was unconscious for some time."

Viper smirked at this admission of weaknesses. Her hand was slithering around Galvatron's upper leg. Cyclonus noted the attempt to distract Galvatron, but also noted Galvatron's optics never wavered from his.

"What evidence?"

"There was a battle my Lord. A battle we never heard about. I was unable to collect definitive proof, but I suspect the Autobot commanders fought Vector Sigma...maybe even killed it."

"What?" Soundwave asked, not quite raising his vocalizer this time.

Galvatron merely arched an optic.

"What would make you say that Cyclonus? Optimus Prime is nothing if not a sniveling crony when it comes to our progenitor."

"Mighty One, as I said, the evidence is destroyed, but there was a great battle just outside of Vector Sigma's chambers. I suspect our enemies have lied to their followers about Vector Sigma leading them to the discovery of inter-Transformer breeding. They may have found it first, and Vector Sigma fought them to retain its power."

"What makes you think it was the commanders?" Galvatron demanded.

Cyclonus laid out the things he'd seen and worried. It sounded a lot thinner here on Char.

Viper justified his concerns.

"Paint scrapings? Tire marks? This is your evidence for an Autobot rebellion on Vector Sigma?" she scoffed. Her attitude was one of profound disdain, yet she took a moment to smirk at him.

"No..." Galvatron mused. "He is right. Of anyone on Cybertron, who else could fight such a battle and win? Cyclonus is well familiar with the tactics of our foes, and he is most observant. You should learn from him in this. Is there anything else?"

Cyclonus debated. "Yes, I learned what Rodimus Prime took from Viper," he said.

Viper flinched, her optics widened, and her oh-so casual rubbing of Galvatron's shoulders ceased.

Cyclonus fought to keep from gloating. He could say anything he wanted now...anything at all. Since she claimed not to remember she couldn't protest even if she really did. It would be so easy to bring her down, standing there on the dias with her body molded to Galvatron's side like an energon leech. Amnesia or not, if she had taken anything vital from Rodimus Prime and then hid it from her superiors....

Cyclonus met her wide, flaring optics and let the moment linger as a warning. You don't want ME as your enemy Girl...you skirt the edges of oblivion, leaning there. I know how to push you in.

Really...it was tempting. Even if it was something fairly trivial like an inventory or duty rosters, Galvatron would be furious. Enough to never trust her in the slightest. Maybe even enough to kill her.

And yet....

Cyclonus looked deep into Galvatron's optics and liked what he saw. Even if it made life more...interesting around here, Cyclonus liked what he saw.

"She took a trinket off his desk. Something personal to annoy him. Apparently he has been in a rage about it since she stole it," Cyclonus said. If anything, he had just made Viper's position stronger.

Galvatron stared hard at his second. A slow, sly smile spread over the Decepticon leader's face, unique to Cyclonus' experience. He longed to turn, to look over his shoulder and see what Soundwave made of it. Cyclonus had few clear memories of Megatron - just faint echoes from a former life, but he was fairly certain he had never seen this look before, ever.

When Galvatron spoke it wasn't to address his second however.

"Viper. You need to move. That's where Cyclonus stands."  
x  
x  
x

Cybertron:

"You didn't by the way," Optimus said. Right now both medics were working furiously to get the results they wanted, as both patients were acting somewhat morose, and were therefore relatively still.

"Didn't what?" Rodimus asked slowly. He hadn't said a word in nearly half an hour...since Optimus confessed not remembering his dreams.

"Get me killed," Optimus told him.

"You need to check his memory circuits Ratchet," Rodimus told the hologram.

"Shove the guilt-complex Rodi!" Optimus roared, jerking.

First Aid - who'd been as close as he'd come so far to completing his scan, hung his head between his arms for a minute and restarted.

"Maybe we should cut off their vocalizers...?" Ratchet mused.

First Aid shook his head, although he didn't want to say why. He had a feeling a lot of what was coming out at this very inconvenient moment, might never come out otherwise.

"It's interfering with scans! If they're quiet we might get to the bottom of it." Ratchet clearly believed most of this was physical in origin.

"I'm afraid some of this stuff IS the bottom of it, Ratchet!" First Aid whispered.

Oblivious, the two Primes glared at each other.

"I DID get you killed Optimus. I got in the way," Rodimus said matter-of-factly. "If I hadn't...."

"If you hadn't Megatron would have shot me anyway. I couldn't fire! I couldn't! Vector Sigma wanted me dead...you do realize that don't you? Vector Sigma told us I was starting to think about going on the offensive and it decided to get rid of me. That whole fight! So many of our people died...just to get rid of those most affected by living on Earth! Rodi it told us!"

"I...remember," Rodimus admitted very sluggishly.

Optimus half sat up. First Aid pushed him down.

"Rodi...when you decided to interfere...that was Sigma too. It TOLD us so! I was restrained and you were pushed! Remember? I knew you were Chosen...therefore it knew you were Chosen. That guilt is your first influence...and my decision to give the Matrix to Magnus didn't help! You have to get rid of it!"

Ratchet watched Rodimus' neural activity in fascination. The younger Prime was physically still, but his cranial circuits lit up all over the board. None of it was organized or focused though until right at the end. Then suddenly it was all about the memory centers.

"There's no implant," he finally said as though in confession.

"Rodi...I'm sure Hot Rod only needed a push...not a full blown implant," Optimus said sadly.

"I wanted to help you. I was trying to protect you," Rodimus whispered. His optics closed down and he sounded even younger than he was.

"I know..." Optimus answered.

Rodimus still didn't activate his optics.

"Optimus...forgive me," he murmured in Hot Rod's voice.

This time Optimus could answer him. "There's nothing you need to be forgiven for, but if it helps you...I do Rodi. For all of it. Can you...can you forgive me back? For not firing? For not acting? For sentencing you to this before you reached your first vorn?"

"It doesn't matter, but yes," Rodimus said, his optics flaring on again, "We need to heal these wounds. We need to become friends again and I'm worried. That takes time and it's time we don't have."

Ratchet shook his head and frowned. Rodi saw him, and quirked a smile. "What is it Ratchet?"

Ratchet shook his head.

Rodimus grinned. "Come on...Optimus and I can't seem to control what we say. Why should you?"

"It's not relevant. I'm just...shocked I guess. In my dimension it's just not like this. I realize I need to catch up on your history and Vector Sigma interfered, but in my dimension.... Let's just say I can't think of anything coming between Hot Rod and his father this way. Optimus is busy, and he gets frustrated with Hot Rod's... um... rambunctious behavior sometimes, but there's also pride and affection all around. Optimus makes time to talk to Hot Rod every day, if only for a few minutes, and if Hot Rod forgets to check in Optimus hunts him down to find out why."

Rodimus chuckled. Obviously it was his turn to get overly silly. "This is true. Phone calls every night at the Witwicky residence, if only for a tally of the property damage. It was so freakin' weird."

"Why do you say that?" Optimus said defensively. "Do you think if I had a child I wouldn't keep track of them?"

"No...I know you would. I just meant it was weird that it was me...sort of," Rodimus said. "The only time I ever spoke to you was to receive orders or when Magnus got fed up enough to send me to you for discipline. Not that there was anything wrong with that...it was just different."

"You're saying I ignored you," Optimus hissed.

"I'm saying you showed me exactly the amount of attention a busy commander would show a young soldier. You didn't ignore me, and you didn't show any favoritism. Why would you? I'm not complaining Optimus! It was just surreal listening to Hot Rod talk to his father. It's a totally different sort of relationship! It wouldn't have been appropriate for you to just pluck me from the herd and center on me like that. That would be like me...I dunno...deciding to adopt Slingshot and calling him every night just to see how his day went."

"Slingshot's older than you," Optimus pointed out.

"Ok...bad example. Cobalt then...or Anaconda....although maybe Ana could use it," Rodimus mused.

"Why did you say Slingshot then?" Optimus asked.

"Because I'm stupid!" Rodimus snapped.

"Now you say I'm calling you stupid?" Optimus snarled. His neural net was firing wildly, with random spikes showing up all over the board.

Rodimus took that as his signal to hide his face behind his hands. "By the Matrix what's wrong with us?" he asked no one in particular.

"If you would hold still, we might find out," Ratchet prodded with sweet venom, pulling Rodi's hands down.

"Did you like him better?" Optimus demanded.

"Who?" Rodi asked. "Slingshot?"

"NO! The other Optimus!" the elder Prime growled.

"I avoided him as much as possible. I let Hot Rod and Magnus deal with him whenever I could," Rodimus said.

"Because of me..."

"NO! ... Well...maybe a little," Rodimus confessed, "but mostly because I didn't think it was healthy for them to have me around."

"Explain yourself," Optimus ordered icily.

Rodimus sighed. "You know, if an older version of Edana or Alex showed up and said, 'Hi Dad, I'm not REALLY your daughter, but I'm an assassin in the middle of this hellish war in my own dimension and I'd really like some help getting back so I can probably get killed there,' I'm not sure I'd ya know... deal with it all that well."

Optimus laughed hysterically for a very long time...and Rodimus' brain finally settled down enough to let him get really, really scared.  
x  
x  
x  
Char:

Cyclonus ascended the dias with a deep sense of satisfaction. Passed the test. On to the next one. He was also alert, wary, and careful to watch Viper's face. If she was angry at her displacement from Galvatron's right hand, she hid it perfectly, and merely used it as an excuse to run her hand lightly across the back of Galvatron's shoulders as she passed from right to left. The smile she threw at Cyclonus was seductive, but he sensed she was merely illuminating what he might have had.

Cyclonus' worries about her and his respect for her rose in tandem. This femme was extremely young, but she had mastered her emotions and was patient. This game between them would surely be...interesting...and he would have to make sure he never underestimated her.

He saw her smile widen as he walked up the steps. Ah...she was underestimating him.

Cyclonus set foot on the top tier and fought for his life.

Adder's strike was silent and instantaneous, but if Viper expected her sister to eliminate the competition she was to be disappointed. Cyclonus would not make the mistake of forgetting Adder ever again. As the snake struck, his hand lashed out and caught her by the neck just under the jaw.

He squeezed so hard her mouth gaped open, and he cocked his head at her.

Ignoring Viper's gasp of fear, and Galvatron's leer of satisfaction, Cyclonus addressed Adder directly - something nearly no one ever did.

"I hope for your sake you understand me Adder," Cyclonus rumbled calmly. "I will never say it to you again. Strike at me, ever, and I will kill you." He squeezed harder and watched dispassionately as her white scales grew greyish and dull. Viper was trembling with rage and fear, but she didn't dare move. Galvatron smiled lustfully, and took that moment to run his hand up her leg.

Cyclonus ignored them both. He stared into Adder's optics and watched them flicker once....twice....

He dropped the snake-femme contemptuously at his feet, as if daring her to bite him.

She didn't.

Adder slowly and painfully slithered back to her former position, ignoring him completely.

Cyclonus willed his fuel-pump to slow down and contained his surges. He hoped he would not be forced to teach that particular lesson every day, but he was resigned to do it. He was also becoming resigned to ignoring his own spiking energon levels.

Fear and violence.

Apparently Galvatron took inspiration from all that and took a seething Viper on the throne as well.

Cyclonus found a spot on the far wall to stare at while his commander made use of the femme.  
x  
x  
x

Cybertron:

Rodi shut down his optics and wished he dared shut down his audios too.

Ratchet was running his scan again and Rodimus was determined to get through it no matter what Optimus said.

Don't answer...don't answer... he reminded himself again and again...along with the fact that he really did love, and really was worried about his partner.

On the table next to him, Optimus Prime cycled from anger to sorrow to laughter in an increasingly erratic loop - pulling random memories and emotions out of thin air to rant or chuckle or lament over.

"Maybe if I wasn't here..." Rodimus whispered to Ratchet.

"Blew...Ironhide's head off...I saw...the Mausoleum... . Why didn't you do that to me Megatron? Rodimus?! Why didn't you?!" Optimus roared. Then he chuckled. "Probably wouldn't matter...I don't need a head. Vector Sigma thinks for me."

"We need to compare your scans...and First Aid seems to think this is therapeutic. "Be still...I'm almost finished with yours. Maybe we can find out enough to help him."

"He's getting worse," Rodimus said. It was hard to lie there, not answering what he heard.

"Why didn't you kill me better?" Optimus asked, turning on him. "Why? You couldn't do that for me? If I was your father would you have done that for me? You damned sadist! You let the Quints use me! You should have left me there with Ironhide and Prowl!"

Rodimus' optics widened and flared with each new accusation. He shuddered and Ratchet used one of his limbs to clamp over Rodi's mouth. He whispered harshly into Rodi's audio. "He's delirious! Don't you dare feed into that!"

"But..." Rodimus started.

"But nothing....you had your moment too! You slammed him into the wall hard enough to split his armor! It may just be part of the process... your scans are looking better now." Ratchet said.

It was true. Rodimus' scans were looking more structured, while Optimus' were falling deeper into chaos. The young Prime had a few advantages over his partner. He was young and had less implants to start with. It had only been a few decades since his neural net had been tampered with...the normal routes his thoughts would have taken were atrophied, but they were still accessible, and they were re-setting themselves. Most of all though, he had a mind-linked mate as hard-headed as he was, and she locked his limbs for him every time he forgot to be still. Lancer also helped him keep his mouth shut when his own scrambled mind went AWOL and he started to respond to Optimus' ravings.

"Lancer's helping me," Rodimus confessed. She had waited, stubbornly, for him to ask for help, and he sensed with resignation there was trouble brewing there for him too. In the end though, he had been frightened by Optimus' delirium enough to reach for her. He knew she was dealing with Edana. He knew his daughter would feel a lot of his... illnesses or whatever this was... but he needed help and he had reached for his mate. Protecting his child...protecting his partner...he had to admit to himself he couldn't do it all, all the time.

"We can't lose him...not like this," Rodi whispered.

"His vital signs are optimal," First Aid told him. "It's just his mind that's malfunctioning."

"That's worse," Rodimus said. Optimus was now accusing Rodi of delighting in making everyone worry by getting sick when he and Lancer were separated.

"Has...has anyone gotten in touch with Elita?" Rodimus asked.

Ratchet and First Aid just looked at each other.

Continued in Pilgrimage 2 - Part B


	2. Chapter 2

Maelstrom Chapter 38  
Pilgrimage 2

Author's note: This story is part of a LONG series called Maelstrom. It is strictly Gen. 1 - sorry, but that was all that was out when I started writing back in the late 1980's. It began as a fan-publication so the first chapters are in the form of a comic book! If you have not read the nine original **Maelstrom Comics** and the preceding text stories, I strongly suggest you do. This is a complex universe. They can be found at http// illmatar. deviantart. com (I have put double spaces between the URL here or FF . Net eats the link.) The comics and art which accompanies this series are there.

**Most chapters of this series contain strong language and violence. Rated M for adult themes! Really! Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Critiques adored! This scene contains strong language, violence, and sex. Rated M for adult themes! **

**  
Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Story and OC characters are mine. Critiques adored!  
**

Pilgrimage 2 - Part B

Continued From Pilgrimage 2 - Part A

Elita frowned inwardly at the proverbial "fine print" of the trade agreement she was holding. Actually, it was literal fine print and she sighed a bit. Didn't they realize her optics could compensate perfectly well no matter how small they wrote their treachery? She had demonstrated it often enough surely.

This was perhaps the tenth revision of this particular document and she, with innocent sweetness, pointed out in "confusion" that surely they didn't meant to say a twenty-five percent tariff on all goods from, or even ferried through Cybertron? Surely that was a misprint.

Right?

Ah, such uncomfortable looks on the alien faces around her. Hard to read them through their encapsulated breathing tanks full of methane-enriched water. She was getting better though. One two-headed male (?) actually turned different colors. One head violet...the other bright pink. He looked positively festive to Elita's optics...but not as festive as a good round of laser fire.

She continued to smile serenely, as the "Obvious mistake" was "corrected" to a mere fifteen percent.

Robbery, especially for their long-distance trading partners who needed to use Cybertron to refuel to even reach this quadrant. Elita asked, still all feminine airiness, why such a penalty would be necessary for traders who merely used Cybertron as a way-station. After all, what did the Sories care about where their suppliers refueled?

Opps! Five percent. They would still lose some traders to this. Small operations wouldn't be able to afford it but most would rather pay the tariff than take the longer route which brought them closer to Char.

Thanks Galvatron. You're good for something at last.

Really a pity about the methane being so explosive and all.

Elita really weighed the document for the first time. Only...what? Hmm...36 hours of unrefined slag to get to anything she might contemplate signing.

She stood and bowed the prerequisite four bows, and said "Thank you honored ancestors," (Ancestors! Really! Almost 10 million years old and calling these mortal parasites "ancestors" because their traditions demanded it!) "I shall take this generous accord back to the Autobot Council for consideration."

There was an increase of bubbles in the tanks around her. She had agitated them with "consideration" rather than "ratification." Tough. She wasn't about to make even an implied promise until the others had a look. She supposed she should have cared more about their upset. They were notorious for forcing entirely new talks over imagined slights, but right now she just wanted to leave before she stepped on someone.

Maybe Optimus' recent recklessness was contagious.

Then she got the call from First Aid, transformed, and ripped out of the room without pressing her forehead to the floor first.

Elita wondered, as she headed for Central's medical wing in a barely controlled panic, if they thought as well of her exhaust as she did of their methane.  
x  
x  
x  
Ten minutes later, she had Op's head in her lap. As long as he had her face to stare at he was quiet for the most part.

"Really Elita, if you could just keep him still," First Aid said. He just had a hard time with people sitting on his exam table when they weren't there for an exam.

"Do you want to be picky or do you want me to keep him calm?" Elita snapped. Her patience had gone on vacation about 34 hours ago.

First Aid sighed.

Optimus looked up at her vaguely and muttered something about centipedes and Megatron.

She glanced over at Rodimus who had his optics shut down and was also speaking quietly to himself. She got the impression though that Rodi was having a real conversation with Lancer, not a delirious fit.

"What's wrong with them Ratchet?" she asked.

Ratchet sighed. "We just finally got Rodimus' through his scan Elita... it's too soon to say for sure."

"I'll accept a guess," she said simply.

First Aid and Ratchet looked uncomfortable - not making optic contact and staring anywhere but at her.

"Spill it," Elita ordered.

"Yes, Ma'am," First Aid said, keeping his hands busy on Optimus' test. "We think Vector Sigma's implants came in different degrees of sophistication. Sometimes it just needed to give one of them an idea, but sometimes it uploaded a full-blown viral program to literally change the way they thought about things. It essentially reprogrammed their minds. The neural pathways their thoughts took were rerouted and now that they have removed some of the implants their minds are basically trying to reboot themselves. The old channels are atrophied from lack of use. I'm worried, especially in Optimus' case Elita, that some of his original thought patterns may actually be gone. Rodimus was exposed for a much shorter time period."

"In other words Elita," Ratchet said grimly, "the connections they were using were foreign, but they were connections their minds grew accustomed to using. Now they being forced to establish or reestablish their thought processes. We think Rodimus has turned the corner. He is acting more like himself and his scans are showing much more organized patterns. Optimus is actually deteriorating, although that is slowing down."

Elita stared at the holographic doctor. "I...I don't even know what that really means. I've never heard of anything like it. Will Optimus get better too?"

"We think so Elita. He needs rest and he needs time," First Aid said, squeezing her arm compassionately.

"What if you're wrong?" she asked, gently pushing Optimus' hands back down away from his face. She took one of them and held it to her.

Ratchet was never one to sugar-coat anything, "Then he'll go insane, and if it gets bad enough to disrupt more than his cognitive brain functions it could kill him. Even if he gets better we won't know for a while whether he'll ever function as well as he did."

"I'm sorry Elita," Rodimus said, turning his head towards her. His optics were so sad.

"It's not your fault either, Rodi," she said, reaching out and taking his hand with her free one. She wished, somehow, that she could bridge the gap between their souls as easily.

"The worst damage is recent," he told her. "Vector Sigma got positively reckless with his mind to get him to turn on me. It worked too. He really hates me."

"Don't be stupid Rodimus," Elita said. "If you boys didn't really love each other do you think you could possibly have hurt each other as much as you have?"

x  
x  
x

Char:

Eventually the Decepticons got around to attending to the daily business of being Decepticons. Duties were assigned, posts manned (with a bit more watchfulness after the recent Autobot intrusion), and the usual competition for notoriety and favor in Galvatron's esteem got underway. Cyclonus evaluated it all automatically. They were coming in sparsely, but they were coming. They were coming in nervously, and looking suspiciously at Galvatron's record setting calm spell, but they were coming.

There was a new invisible line on the floor, a bit more distant from the dias than the old one. The old imaginary line gave one a false sense of time - reaction time. There seemed to be a point on the floor where the troops believed they had a prayer of avoiding the shot, should Galvatron decide to shoot them.

As Galvatron's plasma bolts had a range of several miles, this was a purely psychological comfort...so why the change? A few more meters wouldn't make a whit of difference...but.... Ah...acid marks on the floor. Galvatron MIGHT strike at you, but get too close and Adder definitely WOULD strike at you. The new perimeter around the throne was apparently her range. Cyclonus wondered if any of the others remembered she could also spit acid a long way when she wanted to, but he wasn't about to bring it up. Her range for that extended out past the door. If they realized no one would dare enter.

She hadn't struck at him again though. Cyclonus smiled smugly...then frowned to himself. Adder was disturbed. Adder was animalistic...but Adder was a Cybertronian, not really an animal. Just because she didn't talk, didn't mean she couldn't understand, and he must keep that in mind. He must never assume things he said in her presence didn't matter. He eyed the white serpent coiled around the throne. So still it was easy to forget she was alive and sentient.

No...he must never forget to watch her as he did her ambitious sister.

In the meantime Galvatron was shocking him and he was shocking the Decepticons too.

The Combaticons were asking for an upgrade in their energon rations to spend more time training as Bruticus. Normally this kind of request got one of two responses: an arbitrary go-ahead or an equally arbitrary volley of punches or plasma fire. Onslaught must have been feeling lucky to even ask.

Instead of an immediate decision however, the Combaticon commander got questioned further. How much energon? What kind of training was Bruticus engaging in? What results were expected from such training?

Cyclonus could see Onslaught was taken completely off guard by these questions. The Combaticon commander wasn't the best at adapting to the unexpected, and Cyclonus was fairly sure the "training" was really just a cover for bigger rations. As flat-footed as the questions caught Onslaught, he still had some answers...as if he had thought of such training before, but only in passing.

Probably the case.

Onslaught liked to plan, but their current circumstances made most of his schemes unfeasible, and Galvatron's chaotic nature often aborted even the ones that were possible.

Uncomfortable or maybe confused at first, Onslaught slowly warmed up to the questioning and his answers got progressively more enthusiastic. Nevertheless, Galvatron's final decision was no. There wasn't enough justification for Onslaught's request, but somehow the Combaticon leader seemed delighted to be turned down.

Cyclonus guessed that was because Onslaught sensed that if he had better prepared his answers he might have won his energon. Next time, he would take the time to prepare his arguments.

The days of random, pointless decisions might just be behind them.

x  
x  
x

Cybertron:

Rodimus sat up wearily to watch Optimus' neural patterns appear inch by inch on the monitor. Glancing at his partner told him the senior Prime was still delirious, and he wondered if Op was even really aware Elita was there. Even so, he was still enough to complete the scan.

First Aid said nothing.

Ratchet sighed. "What a mess."

Rodimus, who knew absolutely nothing about neural pathways and brain-wave patterns, could only assume that the garish patchwork of colors from all over the spectrum meant nothing good. He was suddenly Hot Rod again...watching Optimus say goodbye...knowing it was his fault Prime was hurt...dying.

"He'll be fine Rodi," Elita whispered.

"I should be comforting you," he whispered back at her.

"No...I know he'll pull through. You obviously don't," Elita said with a wan, sad smile.

Rodimus shuddered, and in his current state was a bit more honest than he maybe should have been with Op's worried mate. "He's got to run out of miracles someday. If he dies now....if he can't...be himself again..."

"That's enough," Elita said firmly. "You are still sick too. Don't fret yourself into a relapse." She could see the monitors behind him starting to flare unpredictably again.

He ducked his head and nodded. He pulled his feet up onto the table and sat lotus style. Elita recognized the pose as one Lancer used to try to help keep herself composed. He sat that way a few minutes, even unconsciously miming the breathing he didn't need to do right now.

Finally, he turned those dispirited optics back to meet hers and just stared at her for a while.

"No...no one's opinion means more to me, Elita, except Lancer's. You know that don't you? I never meant to hurt him! I never meant to let things get so poisonous with him," Rodimus muttered.

"I did try to warn you both," Elita sighed, "but you weren't in a position to hear me. I should have guessed sooner that something was interfering. There have been times, Rodimus, when I was ready to kill Optimus for his stubborn inflexibility. Times when it was like nothing I said made a damned bit of difference. It was so unlike him to ignore advice. Even when he ultimately decided not to follow my advice, he would usually at least consider it. Sometimes though, it was like I was talking to the air. It made me furious. I felt like I was dealing with a stranger. A stranger I didn't even like! I'm sure it's no surprise to you a lot of those fights followed events Vector Sigma confessed to meddling with. I...I know I have some implants too. Maybe, when you boys are better I should try to take them on."  
"I wanted him to talk to you. I wanted him to work on your partnership, but I kept letting it go. I kept forgetting to bring it up and fight for what I thought. I fought him for you, Rodimus. I tried, but I didn't try hard enough."

"Now I've come between you," Rodimus said remorsefully.

"None of that now!" Elita scolded. "Of course it wasn't you! Rodimus, this partnership is important to me too! Even if our survival didn't depend on it, it would be important to me as his mate. We still don't have much time together, but we wouldn't have any if it wasn't for you. You are good for us, and you are usually good for him. It's healthy he has you to talk to...he's never had an equal in rank before. I'm his equal but I'm also his mate. Sometimes it's perfect to talk to your mate, but sometimes you need a friend, not a lover."

"I'm not really his friend," Rodimus admitted. "Even when the partnership was working we went our separate ways after our shifts. Friends do things together, but we don't really have anything besides the job in common. Lately the job hasn't even been in common. I do my thing and he does his."

"You've never done anything off duty together?" Elita asked, a bit incredulous.

Rodimus grimaced. "He thinks my pursuits are juvenile and ridiculous, and I think what he's into is...um...boring. So no, we didn't hang out."

"You don't like Earth's sports?" Elita queried, surprised.

"Yeah, they're pretty cool. I don't have time to follow them much anymore. Uh...why do you ask?"

Elita stared at him, then at her mostly comatose mate. She shook her head and whispered, "Orion, you idiot."

Rodimus asked, "Elita?"

The femme didn't answer him but spoke to Optimus quietly. "You still can't let anyone in. After all this time I thought you finally found someone besides me to lean on, and you still wouldn't let him in."

First Aid and Ratchet tried really hard to go about their work without being noticed. They exchanged glances a lot though.

"Elita?" Rodimus prompted again, worried.

"When he wakes up and he's stable, ask him about basketball, Rodimus. I can't believe I need to tell you this, but ask him about basketball," Elita ordered.

x  
x  
x

Char:

After the audience session was over, Cyclonus headed back to his quarters to log in detail what he'd seen, and to try to sort out the changes in Galvatron. He heard a light footstep behind him and whirled; more than half expecting venom or laser fire to hit him in the face.

"You have admirable reflexes Cyclonus," Viper purred.

Cyclonus narrowed his optics, unconvinced she hadn't been about to strike him from behind.

"You need fast reflexes on the dias," he warned.

She ducked her head suggestively to the side. "I wanted to thank you for finding out what that insufferable Autobot tore out of me. I seek no quarrel with you," she said, moving closer.

"Then you will have none, as long as you serve Galvatron and the Decepticon cause with honor."

Viper laughed and he noted even her root mode sported long fangs. "Ah...is that what you think I am? A servant?"

"All Decepticons are soldiers and we all serve our leader," Cyclonus said.

"Perhaps...for now," she smiled, slipping closer again. The tail reached forward and wound round his ankle, finding a small split in his housing at the joint and running along the circuits there. Cyclonus felt his energon flare immediately, but he knew better.

"I regret we didn't have time to ...get to know each other better before Galvatron expressed interest in me," Viper whispered. Her voice didn't handle low tones well...it sounded like a hiss.

Oh...it was so tempting. Cyclonus was as isolated as the rest of the Decepticons and no more immune to standing next to an vigorous interfacing than Rumble. The coil inched higher and for a weak instant he envisioned himself throwing her to the floor and...and....

Lust and fury were a potent combination. He grabbed her by the throat as he had her sister and flattened her against the wall, his body pressed against hers and her legs wrapped around him. Her optics reflected a moment of fear...then a moment of smugness. Again he paused...wracked between tearing her armor off and tearing her apart.

"Play your games with someone else Viper. You lost your chance with me when you seduced Galvatron. I will say to you what I did to your sister. Touch me again...betray Galvatron again...and I will kill you as a traitor," Cyclonus informed her savagely. "Your body is his to use. You gave it to him; you don't own it anymore. I will not become a pawn for your juvenile gambit. You think you have gained influence? Don't bet on it. I think he is more than aware of your ambitions. He merely finds you amusing and... convenient. Trust me Viper. If he finds you are more trouble than you are worth he will kill you, tie your sister down with her legs spread, and achieve the same satisfaction he derives from you. Or maybe he won't kill you and merely set you up that way to entertain the troops." Cyclonus paused as though considering.  
"Maybe I should suggest that to him, since you seem not to mind who or where you interface. Hmm? I can see you...laid out in the common room...with the Stunticons and Combaticons lined up for their turn. Of course we will need to repair you when Rampage gets done. What do you think? Could you handle it if they decided to try you out as Predaking or Bruticus?" Angry and aroused he stared into her optics, "You never know Viper...I might even find you interesting after that."

Uncowed Viper smiled and undulated her body between his and the wall. "You find me 'interesting' now Cyclonus. But you aren't mech enough for me anymore. I wasn't suggesting a joining, just regret that now it is too late since I have given myself to Galvatron. My sympathies to you in your... desperate state. You merely misunderstood me."

Cyclonus narrowed his optics to mere slits. She was lying, and they both knew it, but she was saving face. If he'd been the least bit agreeable they'd be in circuit lock right now. Damn!

"I'm not afraid of you," she went on with a smile, winding her tail defiantly up his leg and into the seam around his hips, where she blatantly and cruelly inflamed him. "You can't kill me without enraging Galvatron - not without proof. Maybe even WITH proof. We could have been friends Cyclonus...allies. But now you will just have to wonder what that would have been like." Her tail found his most sensitive circuits and he gasped involuntarily, leaning his head on the wall over her shoulder. Grinning savagely she worked the area for a long torturous second and then withdrew. His fury equaled triumph to her. Whether he rejected her or took her made no difference now...she had won. "There's nothing you can do," she hissed into his audio. "Galvatron will kill you either way so why not have me?"

Cyclonus drew back, and suddenly she realized she'd miscalculated. His face lost its lust and confusion.

"That's what you don't understand Viper. If I think you are a detriment...if I think you are a threat to the Decepticons in general or Galvatron in particular I am willing to die. Do you understand? In the end, your childish tricks don't matter. I am willing to die."

He was right. Viper didn't understand that at all. Her sensuous posturing failed under her confusion. Now she pouted, a sullen, spoiled child, denied a favorite game.

In complete control of himself again, Cyclonus stepped back even further and whispered, "You'd better go...if he looks for you and doesn't see you...it will be worse when he does."

"I like it," Viper told him.

"You haven't angered him yet," Cyclonus reminded her.

She smiled sensuously. "That's even better. Maybe, once I tire of him, I should deliberately enrage him. If I'm lucky he really will give me to the others. I find myself wondering about Predaking Cyclonus. Such an intriguing suggestion. I guess we will both have to...wonder...a lot."

Turning gracefully, she left.

Cyclonus stood in the dimly lit hall for a long time after she left, thinking furiously.

"Femmes are more trouble than they're worth," he decided.

x  
x  
x

Maelstrom:

Edana woke up slowly and felt sick again. Her head throbbed in a rhythm all its own. She sensed Lancer in the next room: worried, annoyed, and even a bit angry. Her mother often wrestled with these kinds of emotions and wasn't particularly good at it either. It was so easy for Claudia, whose heart was like a pool of deep, clear water, but the avian empath had explained to Edana her mother's mind was damaged. The possession so long ago had injured Lancer's ability to control her feelings, especially if they were of a negative slant.

Edana felt sorry for her mother, but even at six she knew better than to ever say so.

"Mom?" she called.

Lancer showed up in the doorway with gratifying speed.

"Hey baby-girl," the mutant said gently. She sat down and stiffly reached for Edana's forehead.

"Mom...you're a mess," Edana pointed out.

This was quite true, if a bit obvious. Lancer was still sporting bruises from her brief encounter with Soundwave and long gouges from clawing herself up.

"I don't heal fast like Daddy does," Lancer shrugged.

"You are mad at him," Edana stated.

"A little, but I shouldn't be, so I'll get over it," Lancer confessed.

"If you shouldn't be, why are you mad? ... Or won't you tell me 'cause I'm too little to know anything?"

Lancer sighed and prayed for wisdom. "Sometimes I get mad about the way things are Edana. I miss your dad a lot, even though he's always in my head, and I know you miss him even more. I hate it that you can't be with him more. It makes me sad and frustrated that you saw me freak out...and that you don't feel good. I want to make you better, and I can't, and I wish Daddy was here to help me."

"He can't live here. He has to take care of the Autobots," Edana reminded her mother in her "duh Mom" voice.

"I know. That's why I shouldn't be mad, Baby-girl."

"You are anyway Mom," Edana said.

"I know. I'm also worried about him. Daddy's...Daddy's kinda sick too right now and for some reason that just makes me more mad at him," Lancer admitted ruefully.

Edana sat up and examined her mother very seriously. "Mom...that makes no sense at all."

Lancer laughed a little and hugged her. "Oh...baby...were you under the impression everything grown-ups feel and do makes sense?"

'The things that bad Autobot felt about Aunt Arcee's baby made no sense," Edana asserted. She felt hot tears start in her eyes...that night haunted and confused her. So many voices... such fury and fear... burning... burning in her eyes. She shuddered. Lancer hugged her closer and rocked her sadly. They cried together, but for different reasons for a little bit.

"Are we going back to Cybertron?" Edana asked.

"Not until Perceptor and Kup finish your room and you feel better," Lancer said.

"But...Daddy's sick. He needs you," Edana reasoned. Then she thought about it for a minute. "Oh... you have to pick. Like Daddy has to pick the Autobots over me... you pick me over him?"

Lancer didn't say anything, she just smoothed Edana's already smooth hair and wondered about having such a conversation with a six year old kid who shouldn't be capable of asking such questions already.

"That's one way to look at it," Lancer finally said, weighing each word carefully. "I like to think of it as we are helping each other. He takes care of the Autobots and I take care of you girls. We are sharing jobs. See?"

"But you're still mad at him," Edana pointed out.

"I'm scared for you 'Dana. Your powers are much stronger than mine or Claudia's and we don't have anyone who can help you with them. Sometimes being afraid makes people angry."

Edana thought about that for a while. "So is that why the people who helped Eclipse were so angry? Because they were afraid?"

"Yes. I think so," Lancer agreed.

Edana looked seriously at her mother. "Aunt Arcee must be having one hell of a baby!"

x  
x  
x

Cybertron:

Rodimus was laying back down on Ratchet's orders and had been quietly listening in on Lancer's conversation with their daughter. He was both scared for her and proud of her, and doing his best to clear his muddled head to help Lancer answer Edana judiciously.

The remark about Arcee's baby took them both completely off-guard and Rodimus laughed out-loud, causing Ratchet to look suspiciously at his neural scans again.

Elita and Optimus both looked at him. The senior Prime was having one of his more lucid moments and they had been talking quietly to each other while First Aid ran more tests.

"Rodimus?" Elita asked.

"It's Edana," Rodimus smiled. "I'm not relapsing. She just...said something really funny."

Elita smiled and asked him to explain, so he did, imitating his daughter's consternation perfectly.

Optimus looked surprised, "She's talking very well now," he said.

Rodimus raised his brow, "Optimus, of course she's talking well, she's six. Alex is already talking in sentences."

"I thought they needed to be older to talk," Optimus frowned.

"Alex is growing faster than normal, but even if she wasn't she'd be starting to talk by now," Rodimus said. He was concerned. Even if the Autobots hadn't been fully briefed on the human life-cycle, Optimus had spent plenty of time with the Witwickies when Danny was little.

"But...I thought they needed to be about a year old to talk," Optimus argued.

Rodi's mouth fell open, speechless. It was Elita who answered her mate's confusion.

"Orion, Alex will turn one in three months, but her accelerated growth has her at about a year and a half of development." Elita squeezed her mate's hand.

"But...she was just born! Wasn't she just born?" Optimus said. Then he froze in Elita's lap. "She wasn't...I remember you telling me about it Rodi. I remember you brought her in to show us...and as soon as you left. By the Matrix...there's an implant there...I stopped thinking about her almost as soon as you left the room."

"Don't pull it!" Rodimus cried, terrified his partner was already too unstable. Unstable, and still stubborn, Optimus went after the implant anyway and the rest of them watched in horror as his thought patterns lost most of the cohesion they had recovered.

His optics squinted in pain and then he blinked off like someone had flipped a switch.

This time, to everyone's relief, Optimus didn't stay down for long. He stirred in Elita's lap almost before they could register his unconsciousness. "It forced me to forget your girls, Rodi," the senior Prime acknowledged grimly. His voice trembled with wrath. "The thing I find most remarkable about you is your family, and it just stole that right out of my head."

Rodimus just stared at his partner, unable to find words for what was going on in his own head. He couldn't put a date to the day Optimus had stopped at least asking him about his children, and he really hadn't given it much conscious thought at all, but....Rodi realized how it carved the yawning chasm between them, how much it had tarnished their friendship. The recognition of the wound came as the pain was healing. Op hadn't meant it.

"It's OK," Rodimus said.

"Are they well? How are they doing?" Optimus asked.

"They are fine...well..Alex is fine. Edana's recovering," Rodimus amended. His hands gripped the side of his exam table.

"Recovering from what?"

"She helped us find Eclipse, remember? She was upset by everything that happened, and she overstretched her powers so she's feverish and hurting. Optimus... I told you that the next day," Rodimus reminded him. Distress echoed back and forth between them through the Matrix link, but Rodimus was so distracted by his partner he didn't even notice he was feeling it.

"I can hardly remember," Optimus rumbled furiously. "She saved us Rodimus. She rescued Arcee and prevented a civil war, but I can hardly bring her face to mind."

"Orion don't let it get you too upset," Elita said. "Save getting angry about it for when you are stronger."

"Sigma was just so damned insidious, Ariel. It found everything I respect about my partner and turned me away from it." His body rattled against the table as he quaked with anger. "It almost destroyed us. I almost LET it destroy us!"

Elita smiled, and caught his waving hand with some difficulty - he was waxing dramatic with his gestures. "Almost, but we are not the ones in a trillion tiny pieces right now. You have pulled off another amazing escape of certain doom. Now settle down."

"I can't," Optimus stated.

"Try," his mate urged, gripping his first hand tighter and chasing the other through the air as it waved around, seemingly at random.

"I really CAN'T," Optimus snapped at her harshly. "Nothing works! My emotions just keep vacillating!"

Elita finally succeeded in nabbing his other hand (thinking that all of her assassin's training hadn't made it any easier). She didn't repeat "Try", but she stared deep into his optics until he was forced to stare back.. His hands were surely strong enough to break her grip but they just vibrated in her grasp. His grip was so powerful her digits were compressed.

"I love you," he said, almost guiltily.

"Yes you do," she answered with a smile, "and since you do you will believe me. You are fine, Optimus. You are fine. The pieces to this puzzle are all there waiting to be put back together. You love me. You love Rodi too. Now...relax, that's an order."

Rodimus sat up and shifted to the edge of his table, watching his partner watch his mate. The monitors showed Prime's patterns becoming more uniform, with less random flares from disparate sections of his neural centers. Over the course of about ten minutes, Optimus stared into Elita's optics and slowly stopped trembling.

Finally, he slipped into recharge-mode and relaxed the crushing grip on her hands.

Elita gracefully slid herself out from under her mate's head and stood quietly over him for a moment, her face expressionless.

"E?" Rodimus asked.

She turned to him and threw herself into his arms, sobbing.

Continued in Pilgrimage 2 - Part C


	3. Chapter 3

Maelstrom Chapter 38  
Pilgrimage 2

Author's note: This story is part of a LONG series called Maelstrom. It is strictly Gen. 1 - sorry, but that was all that was out when I started writing back in the late 1980's. It began as a fan-publication so the first chapters are in the form of a comic book! If you have not read the nine original **Maelstrom Comics** and the preceding text stories, I strongly suggest you do. This is a complex universe. They can be found at http// illmatar. deviantart. com (I have put double spaces between the URL here or FF . Net eats the link.) The comics and art which accompanies this series are there.

**Most chapters of this series contain strong language and violence. Rated M for adult themes! Really! Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Critiques adored! This scene contains strong language, violence, and sex. Rated M for adult themes! **

**  
Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Story and OC characters are mine. Critiques adored!  
**

Pilgrimage 2 - Part C

Continued From Pilgrimage 2 - Part B

Hours later, Med-lab was overly quiet. Perceptor had come to put his stamp on their investigations, but had little to add. Elita was finally recharging, after Rodimus had led her by the hand to go lie down. Now he and Ratchet were talking in hushed tones while First Aid scanned every manual he had ever found for clues, and Perceptor occupied a terminal looking to devise new tests for Op.

Optimus' neural scans were no longer jumping. They were ebbing. Slowly.

Ratchet was hammering Rodimus with quiet questions and the young Prime was doing his best to answer with complete honesty, knowing that helping Ratchet understand could be the difference for Optimus' recovery. Rodimus' own recovery was nearly complete. His neural pathways were stable and clear, with only an occasional twitch to show he was still a work in progress.

"So...you got in the way at Vector Sigma's prompting? Do you think that was your first interference?"

Rodimus shrugged. "If there were others they didn't have any long term effects on me...at least that I know of. As it was I was guilt-ridden, and felt that even if the Matrix had chosen correctly, I was tainted with his fuel on my hands. There...there were even those who suggested I knew I was next in line and got Optimus killed out of greed for the Matrix. I was guilty enough to wonder if they were right."

"DID you know?" Ratchet asked.

"Not a clue. Not nearly as much of a clue as Hot Rod in your dimension. Think of what he'd be like without Elita to keep him in line, and without your Autobot Academy to teach him discipline."

Ratchet gaped at him.

Rodimus smirked ruefully at himself. "All engine and energon. No clue," he summarized, poking at his head as if to demonstrate its hollowness.

"So Optimus left you the Matrix when he died?"

"No," Rodimus sighed. "He gave it to Magnus. Vector Sigma convinced Optimus to let Magnus 'hold it' until I was older. I was only twenty Earth years old. I'm sure it didn't take much tweaking to convince Optimus I wasn't ready."

"So what convinced Magnus to give it to you?" Ratchet asked.

Rodimus laughed quietly. "I don't think anything in the universe could have convinced him Ratchet. The Decepticons tore him apart and stole it from him. Galvatron tried to use it on Unicron, and I lucked my way into it there."

"Back up. At what point did Megatron become Galvatron and who is Unicron?"

Rodimus nodded and related what happened in as few words as possible. He didn't expect much of a response.

He was wrong.

"You mean that a Transforming PLANET might be going after Cybertron in the near future in my home dimension?!" Ratchet hissed. Mechanical arms all over the lab went wild.

"Ouch!" cried First Aid, rubbing his left optic.

"Er..yeah," Rodimus said.

"And you don't think it might have been good for them to KNOW that?" Ratchet hissed again.

"We didn't want to interfere if we could help it," Rodimus said. Objects flew at him from all over the lab. He ducked all of them instinctively. Unfortunately First Aid didn't have Rodi's Lancer-honed reflexes.

"OUCH! Ratchet! If you wake Optimus Prime up again I will personally give your sparkly self to Swoop for his trinket collection!" First Aid said, very quietly.

"How positively unpacifistic of you," Ratchet returned.

"Oh," Rodimus grinned airily, "Not really. Swoop won't hurt you. He'll just stow you in the Lair with all the other shiny stuff he collects. You will stay there, unharmed, buried in crap. That's all."

"I can't believe you didn't warn them!" Ratchet said.

"I gave them a clue or two. They'll be fine. Really Ratchet....if my little punk self could work it out your team has no problem."

Ratchet's numerous appendages lifted menacingly and Rodimus had the distinct image that he was surrounded by a horde of enraged disembodied mantis limbs.

Rodimus looked around and contemplated the dangers of a vindictive medic.

"Or I could send them a note," he offered, smiling ingratiatingly.

"DO that," Ratchet said. He settled back to listen while Rodimus went on with the history of his first term, including everything he thought might have a Sigma connection or traumatic impact. His own lack of confidence driven ever deeper by over-zealous "help" from Magnus and Kup - at Sigma's spurring. Optimus' zombie revival. The hate plague, and the Matrix's role in curing that.

"Wow....so your Matrix is empty now?"

Rodimus nodded. "For the most part. Optimus surely has left a strong shade. He says there's a little of me in there somewhere, but I've hardly touched the Matrix after he was revived, so it doesn't amount to much." He bit back the automatic addendum that even if he'd had a lot of Matrix contact that it wouldn't have amounted to much.

"You avoided it?"

"Not at first. At first we were technically sharing it, but the times I really needed to carry it were rare. Then I got tortured, went insane, became a working assassin, and decided maybe leaving my memories for posterity was...an unhealthy legacy."

"If it cured the Hate Plague it might have helped your insanity Rodimus," Ratchet pointed out.

Rodimus stopped, cocked his head, and pondered for a second. Then he shook his head. "Not worth the risk," he said. "If the Matrix got tainted then Optimus might have been tainted too."

"You are not a disease Rodimus," First Aid shot, glaring up from his work at Optimus' side.

"Besides, he's already tainted...just not by you," Ratchet said. His holographic form faded a bit and the oddly expressive limbs he controlled sagged sadly. He knew this was a different dimension. He knew the Optimus Prime laying with fading cerebral energies wasn't really the friend and commander he had served with for millions of years, but it didn't matter. It was Optimus, and Ratchet reeled with dismay over his condition. He had patched Optimus' body up more times than he could count, but Prime's mind.... Prime's mind had always seemed invincible to Ratchet. When anyone else would have said "Enough! I'm retiring!" Optimus went on day by day, for millions of years. Others may have waxed poetic about Optimus' physical prowess, but Ratchet knew it was just a slightly stronger body Optimus occupied. It was the endurance of his spirit that set him apart.

Watching Optimus die of cannon fire would be much easier for Ratchet than seeing his neural net unraveling like this.

"I am capable of unspeakable things Ratchet," Rodimus told him. "One of us...needs to be...a real Prime. I am trying to keep him quarantined from the worst of it, so that when this is over the Autobots will still have a Prime worthy of the title."

This time he got glares from all three of them.

"Primus," Ratchet said to no one in particular. "I just got here and I'm sick of that already. You ARE a real Prime you thick-headed moron! I don't even know you that well and I can see it!"

"Ratchet I'm not leading anyone! I'm just doing my own thing out in the dark. Leading implies following and I do NOT want anyone following me there! Least of all Optimus! I killed thirteen humans yesterday! I killed the first one from behind, killed the second and regretted I didn't have time to torture him first, and broke the neck on the third after he cooperated. I killed one after he surrendered and two more got shot in the back when they tried to retreat. Ratchet...Sometimes I MURDER the VICTIMS if they see too much. I am worse than a Con! I promise you I do things Cyclonus would never do! I use rape as a cover! I use torture all the time! I am NOT a real Prime and if I was smart I would figure out how to leave forever and still do what I need to do. You'd better figure out how to save him, because I'm not touching the Matrix even if he dies."

By the time Elita got up, they had given up arguing with him - mostly because his optics went all green, he got quiet on them, and his scans were showing some deep changes by the time they dropped it. The look on his face gave Ratchet surges.

The insanity Rodimus spoke of almost casually became tangible to the doctor at that moment. Right there on Rodi's face...right there on the scans too. The protests of an uncertain young Prime Ratchet might ignore, but not concrete medical evidence.

Ratchet frowned within himself. He sensed First Aid and Perceptor gave up arguing because they felt it was pointless. Ratchet gave up because he didn't want Rodimus to relapse, but he wasn't really surrendering. Rodimus was ill, functioning better than his partner right now, but still ill.

Illness was Ratchet's enemy more than any Decepticon had ever been, and he made use of his new-found ability to split his mind. Optimus got his full attention, but somewhere another side of Ratchet was busily observing Rodimus for future treatment.

Elita got up gracefully and padded silently back to Optimus' side. She made obvious note of Rodi's flaring optics but ignored all the warning protocols and took his hand.

"He has to get better Elita," Rodimus whispered, "but he needs to have time to do it. He needs peace, and with all that's been going on I can't think of any way to get it for him."

"I'd say a nice, long leave is in order, once we get him stable," Ratchet said. His voice had a touch of sarcastic in it. Wasn't that obvious to them?

Rodimus shook his head. "He's probably the most recognizable figure in the quadrant. I've been trying to think of a safe place to send him where he won't be hounded by reporters and fans and protesters....there's no where to go. His own face is a trap right now."

Ratchet glared. "I send my version of him on vacation on a regular basis. At least once every half a vorn - more if I think he needs it. He always argues and he always loses. It's a miracle yours hasn't cracked from the strain."

Rodimus quirked an ironic brow.

Ratchet scowled at him. "I mean before now," he amended.

"Your Optimus is not the head of state as well as the military commander," Rodimus reminded the fuming medical officer. "You have the Council of Elders. The civilians take their complaints to them. Here it's just us, which really means it's just him."

"If we send him on leave you are going to have to fill in for him Rodi," Elita said.

"I know. I'm trying not to think about it," Rodimus scowled. It wasn't just that he was so out of practice - it was all the lives that would slip through his hands like sand while he did paperwork and talked to diplomats and reporters.

"You need to more than think about it," Elita said, "You need to get on it. Do...do you even...Rodi do you even know what he's been doing?"

They stared at each other a moment.

"I don't have a fucking clue," Rodimus confessed.

Ratchet glared at First Aid in disgust as Rodimus and Elita took off out of med-lab like there were harpies on their heels.

"You didn't give Rodimus permission to leave," the holographic medic complained.

First Aid Gave Ratchet as good a glare as he was getting. "Even if I were inclined to wrestle my patients, Ratchet, they are both assassins. Nothing I might do would have made a damned bit of difference."

"I need longer arms," Ratchet mused.

x  
x  
x

"The state of this base in intolerable," Galvatron grumbled.

Cyclonus stared at his commander. The base was no better, but surely no worse than it had been for years, yet Galvatron's tone carried an element of surprise, as if he had just noticed.

"I agree completely My Lord," Cyclonus returned easily. It was true. The next part wasn't so easy, true or not. "Our resources are thin Mighty One. Certain parts of the base are not at optimal condition." It was unusual for Galvatron to take note of his environment. It was not unusual for him to blast the bearer of bad news, even if it was obvious old news. Cyclonus didn't need to prepare to dodge...he was always prepared to dodge.

"Our inventory is so low we can not maintain the command center?" Galvatron rumbled thoughtfully.

Cyclonus said nothing, he merely stood straighter at attention.

Galvatron's optics narrowed to thin slits of lava on his scowling face.

"Things must change around here Cyclonus," he purred. "And they will."

Cyclonus froze in elation and terror. His commander was returning! Yet Blitzwing's words came back to haunt the Decepticon second. "We can wipe you out whenever we choose...."

x  
x  
x

"He's got Computron on community planning and transportation? You've got to be kidding me!" Rodimus exclaimed.

"You didn't know that? It's working out very well...Computron has housing, land, air, and space growth projected out 3 vorns, and is in charge of helping Grapple decide on priority projects. They are proving to be an efficient team," Elita said.

Rodimus looked at her blankly, "Actually it makes complete sense, but no...I had no idea." He grimaced. "Forget about knowing how my people are doing, I don't even know what my people are doing."

"That's a huge problem," Elita whispered. "You were supposedly part of all these decisions. Look...your stamp is on the transfer too."

Rodimus shook his head, "There was a time I could walk in here without knocking and find anything I needed without asking. Now I don't even know where he keeps the duty roster."

"We'll get you caught up," Elita assured him.

"'We'?" Rodimus asked. "There's no 'we' here, Elita. You are on leave with your mate. Just tell me where he keeps things and I'll get caught up on the last five years. It's not your job to help me figure out mine."

"Rodimus you can't possibly wade through it all by yourself in one night!" Elita protested.

"Elita! Your mate's mind is unraveling! We need him back! You may be the only thing that keeps him here...and..." Rodimus paused, and stared into Elita's face. "Elita...even if you can't hold him here, you should be by his side. I...I remember... through the Matrix...when he left us...when he died...every time he died...all he really regretted was you weren't there."

x  
x  
x

First Aid watched the monitors at Optimus' bedside with quiet dread. Just a little slip...barely even detectable really. Shouldn't even be a concern. Yet it followed a previous little slip, which had followed still another, and that followed another. Every time Optimus woke up, even a little, his life ebbed downward in tiny increments...and they had no idea why or how to stop it.

"What do you think Ratchet?" he whispered.

"I think he's dying by inches," Ratchet rasped bluntly.

"Why though? Why would Rodimus get better, and don't just say it's because he's younger. It's more than that."

"My intellect has no answers for you, but my gut tells me having a mind-linked mate holding on to his sense of self probably gave Rodimus an edge. He told us Lancer was helping him sort out what was Sigma and what wasn't. I don't know Lancer very well, but I think if I had something like that patrolling my head and ordering me to get better, I'd be too afraid to argue!"

First Aid looked thoughtful. "So what you're really saying is that Optimus doesn't know what to hold on to, and that this is more of an emotional issue than a medical one. "

"If it was truly medical we would have found more answers by now," Ratchet stated with assurance,

"In other words, " First Aid whispered, "We can't help him, and Vector Sigma is winning after all."

"We'll think of something," Ratchet vowed, but First Aid shook his head and turned away from him. The medic went back to the read-outs and ran some redundant diagnostics and a few simulations on various energon formulas. Ratchet watched him a few minutes and then shut down his holo-form to retreat into his crystal.

He thought about what an irony it was that he was here, worrying so much about a mech who wasn't REALLY his friend Optimus, just an alternate dimension version. A version so tampered with he didn't even know himself enough to hang on to himself. Still, Ratchet couldn't help it. Optimus seemed like the Optimus he knew. Even in his most unstable moments the way he phrased things and viewed things reminded Ratchet so forcefully of his own friend he couldn't help but respond emotionally to the Prime here. Maybe this Optimus HAD been toyed with, but he was still very much like the mech Ratchet respected and knew so well.

How to convince Optimus to hold onto his own mind, when he surely felt it was all soiled and contaminated was the problem.

Ratchet missed First Aid exclaiming in surprise when there was a spike in Optimus' readings. Just one spike. From the Matrix. There and gone...but Ratchet suddenly had an idea. Grinning to himself within his own matrix crystal, he split his awareness yet again and accessed every record he could find on the history of this universe...including the encrypted ones.

Elita slipped into the med-lab and took her mate's hand while Ratchet searched news reports, comments on the net, human governmental databases, and the private logs of every Autobot he could find. That he shouldn't be able to reach, let alone breach, all of these sources of information at once never even dawned on him.

x  
x  
x

Rodimus felt his concentration slip for a moment. He looked around Optimus' alien office for a moment. What had he felt? The Matrix? Or was he just over-tired? Probably tired... and making almost no progress at all. He couldn't believe all the restructuring Optimus had pulled off without Rodi's notice. Most of it made sense, but some of the decisions smelled suspiciously like Vector Sigma to Rodi. Non-obvious weaknesses in the system that could bring it all down with the right pressure. Stuff that would have never held up when their partnership was functioning.

Cybertron was like an Terran City...in danger of collapse under the weight of it's own rapid development. These issues would have to be addressed, but first the young Prime needed to just get a clue about what was going on so that tomorrow he didn't put his foot in it all the way up to his neck.

Elita had stayed for an hour helping him just get a handle on Optimus' filing system, and if Optimus' condition had been anything less than critical Rodimus would have called her back already.

He pounded his head on the edge of Optimus' desk. Magnus and Marissa - on leave. Springer and Arcee - on leave any second now. Jazz - available but probably almost as out of touch as Rodimus and for exactly the same reasons.

Crap. He was going to screw this up worse than his first term.... This even felt the same as the night Kup and Magnus had brought him into Optimus' office on Earth and tried to walk him through everything Optimus had "left" him. The larger quarters which were too big, too clean, and definitely too organized. Rodimus had felt like an intruder - or even a thief going through Prime's place. And he was expected to live like this was he? The only time HIS quarters were neat was when hacking Magnus' computer told him inspections were coming.

Oh and the lovely hours going over the personnel records. Everyone's dirty laundry. Like he wanted to know. The only bright spot there was that he knew for sure at that moment they didn't know half the trouble he should have been in. Then again, knowing that he got away with murder only made this ridiculous promotion feel more like murder.

And the insane things Optimus kept track of to stay friends with the humans who let Metroplex park in their back yards.... Everything from water usage, to nature preserves, to airport flight patterns, to how many traffic violations the Autobots got tagged for. Blurr had over twenty screens of fines all by himself when Rodimus first took command. Now it was over a hundred.

It had made his spinning head spin...and this time was worse because Kup wasn't even there to break it down for him and....

Rodimus stiffened and debated cursing or laughing. Instead he did neither and punched the com line before he lost his nerve.

The other end bleeped three times before an incredibly cranky voice responded.

"This had better be a planet-ending emergency or I'm going twist the tailpipe off of whoever's calling me at this circuit draining hour," Kup grumbled.

Rodimus grinned. "Hey Kup. You remember a night when you helped a slightly over-grown Hot Rod go through Optimus' stuff in a vain effort to convince the Autobots I knew what I was doing?"

There was a long silence. "Rodimus...is that yo...Yes. Yes I do Sir."

"Can the Sir, Kup. Would you mind giving me a hand in not making a complete ass of myself tomorrow? Tall order obviously."

There was another long silence. "I'll be right there," Kup answered, even more gruffly than usual.

Rodimus grinned even wider and chuckled into the darkened office air. "That's right," he said to no one. "Fuck you Sigma."

x  
x  
x

Ratchet grinned. He briefly considered that since he was currently a non-corporal being that it made no sense that he grinned as he had no face to grin with. Being a defiant sort, the controversy just made him grin even wider.

Optimus Prime was apparently pretty much Optimus Prime no matter what dimension you happened to be grinning non-corporal grins in. Oh sure, the details were different here or there, but not at the heart of it. Vector Sigma's influence was profoundly obvious at certain points of time, but his own Optimus Prime had the somewhat pacifistic Council of Elders to contend with and their politicking had tied Prime's hands nearly as badly. Events on Earth up till the point the femmes were rediscovered on Cybertron had been virtually identical on both planes. Elita had joined her mate on Earth in Ratchet's universe, and Hot Rod's conception had followed with due haste.

Suspicious, Ratchet checked the date his current dimension's Hot Rod had been brought on-line. He smirked. He couldn't ever be sure, but he suspected it was probably exactly the same date. It made him really want to contact his home universe and ask Optimus and Elita some very personal, impertinent questions about the sparking of their son. Even that event, life-changing as it surely was for Optimus, had not caused the chain of events in their separate universes to diverge all that much. It wasn't until Prime's implacable, ex-gladiator brother had shown up to make things interesting that you saw a reluctant paradigm shift in Optimus' behavior.

In short, while the Optimus in this universe surely felt every corner of his being was tainted, and every decision he's made was somehow wrong for nine million years, Vector Sigma's influence was mostly superficial until it tried to make him turn on Rodimus.

Ratchet pondered. Now all he had to do was get this Optimus to believe it enough to fight.

x  
x  
x

"What do you think his chances are Lad?" Kup whispered. The question, the first really personal conversation between them, had been on Kup's lip components for the last few hours, but he had somehow been afraid to voice it.

They had been working awkwardly most of the night. It hadn't been difficult to ignore the obvious tension between them - there was so much to do. If a mutual desire to be friends again counted for anything then they would have both just fallen back into their old comradery, but apparently it wasn't going to be that easy. Long silences marked the evening as Rodimus flew through one report after the next - reading, memorizing, and moving on...and on... Once in a while he would stop and ask terse, pointed questions of his mentor that left Kup feeling both impressed and afraid.

This was the assassin at work. The target was Rodimus' ignorance of everything Optimus had been doing, but still.... The questions were efficient, direct, and covering more ground than Kup would have ever thought possible, but the day shift was coming and there was still so much to review.

Kup shook his head inwardly. It was easy to see how Vector Sigma had turned his heart against Rodimus. He was so cold and implacable...so unlike the cheerful boy Kup missed. And yet... Rodimus muttered curses at his absent partner that would have caused most Autobots to attack him for slandering their favored commander.

Kup read it as grief. And so, finally, he had asked Rodimus a question.

"I'm...I'm not feeling really hopeful right now," Rodimus finally answered.

"Who will take over your missions if he dies?" Kup asked, still not quite ready to ask about anything touchier than logistics.

"Elita. She'll have to learn to morph but otherwise she's as much Lancer's student as I am, but we'll need to train her replacement too. If Optimus dies...I wonder how long it will be till she follows," Rodimus said.

"You are thinking of you and Lancer," Kup said. "You underestimate her. Elita loves Prime with all her heart, but she won't let grief make her suicidal. She would never have survived those tube-tangled tunnels if she was that sort."

Rodimus frowned thoughtfully. "I hope you're right, but I'd rather not see the theory tested. I am not cut out for this kind of work anymore. I'd tell you it would drive me insane, except that I'm already insane. Maybe what I should do is step back and let Elita fill this spot. She's got the patience and the reputation for it."

"She's not a Matrix bearer," Kup pointed out.

"Neither am I," Rodimus snarled.

x  
x  
x

Cyclonus felt like all the years of tip-toeing around Galvatron had been leading up to this moment. Never before had he known, with such absolute certainty, that if he spoke even one wrong word it would end his life.

He kept his optics locked on Galvatron's.

Not quite sane. No. Not Megatron. But not insulated by his own insanity either.

Galvatron. Alert...aware...undeflectable.

Careful...careful... He's actually listening to what you say. He thinking.

Tell the truth. Tell it cautiously.

"My Lord...we must be careful. We must be adroit. Our resources will not hold against a full assault, and our recent raids have cost us nearly as much as they've gained because of the melees with the Autobots."

"Is that why our supplies are so low Cyclonus? Incompetent planning?" Galvatron muttered. A few errant sparks flickered around the Con leader's helmet for the first time since Cyclonus had returned from Cybertron.

"My Lord," Cyclonus said...and paused. What to say? What to say that didn't sound like a criticism of his leader? Should he take the blame himself? Would Galvatron simply eliminate him if he did?

Galvatron grinned like a Sharkticon.

"Never mind your answer, Cyclonus. Don't strain your circuits trying to pacify me. I am well aware I am mad. The work you've done keeping me in power and the Decepticons intact is admirable. Someday, maybe, I will ask you why you did it. Then again, maybe I won't. I am functioning better now, or maybe, being mad, it simply seems to me I am functioning better."

"My Lord has not expressed an interest in our base for many cycles," Cyclonus said simply.

"Ah...evidence of improvement presented without any suggestion that my powers of observation were ever faulty. You are masterful at this Cyclonus. A gem amongst the slag. I want a full status report on our base and resources. I want them quickly and then you can tell me what in the pit I have been doing since Unicron broke into my mind."

x  
x  
x

Optimus looked blearily up at his mate, confused that she was upside down. Then it occurred to him she had his head in her lap like she always did. It shocked him that he should be confused by that, even for an instant.

"I'm falling apart Elita," he whispered up at her.

"Bah, you've been through worse," Ratchet said with calculated carelessness. He feigned complete distraction by the read-outs of Prime's vitals and listed off a few examples he knew coincided exactly with events in this dimension, pretending to forget he wasn't dealing with his own Prime at home.

"Are...are you talking about me...or the Optimus in the other dimension?" Prime asked, perking up curiously.

"OH! I forgot. No...I'm sorry. I was talking about my Optimus at home. Forgive me. I must have confused you," Ratchet apologized.

"Um...no...actually those same events happened here!" Optimus said.

Ratchet didn't need to feign interest in Prime's read-outs at that moment. Focusing on something other than his illness sent most of Op's vitals up a notch. For the first time since this latest spiral began, Prime's condition improved a scant degree. Ratchet struggled not to look smug, and instead nodded and made as if to drop the subject and return to work.

Optimus stared at the holographic medic, and Ratchet fought hard not to turn to look back at him.

Come on... Ratchet thought. Ask me...come on. He felt oddly like he was dangling bait in front of the reluctant Senior leader.

There was a spike from the Matrix again.

"Ratchet...?" Optimus asked.

"What?"

"Can you tell me about my twin? Can...can you help me...figure out the real me?"

Continued in Pilgrimage 2 - Part D


	4. Chapter 4

Maelstrom Chapter 38  
Pilgrimage 2

Author's note: This story is part of a LONG series called Maelstrom. It is strictly Gen. 1 - sorry, but that was all that was out when I started writing back in the late 1980's. It began as a fan-publication so the first chapters are in the form of a comic book! If you have not read the nine original **Maelstrom Comics** and the preceding text stories, I strongly suggest you do. This is a complex universe. They can be found at http// illmatar. deviantart. com (I have put double spaces between the URL here or FF . Net eats the link.) The comics and art which accompanies this series are there.

**Most chapters of this series contain strong language and violence. Rated M for adult themes! Really! Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Critiques adored! This scene contains strong language, violence, and sex. Rated M for adult themes! **

**  
Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Story and OC characters are mine. Critiques adored!  
**

Pilgrimage 2 - Part D

Continued From Pilgrimage 2 - Part C

Rodimus jumped and cussed under his breath.

"What's wrong Lad?" Kup asked.

"Nothing...I'm just tired and imagining things," Rodimus answered him.

Kup thought about that, thought about their past and future relationship, and made a calculated decision. He reached over and smacked Rodimus firmly on the back of the head. The response was nothing like he expected.

Rodimus moved, grabbing Kup's retreating hand and rolling out of Optimus' chair simultaneously. What followed was a tumble that ended with Kup on the floor and a fuming assassin with a needle under Kup's chin sitting on top of him. Magnus would have recognized the moment, except for the laughing. Kup couldn't help it - it had been a dumb thing to do but he wasn't sorry. Rodi's dumbfounded expression was worth it. Rodi's optics flared in surprise, and then he glared.

"KUP! Damn it! I might have killed you! What were you thinking?!"

Kup laughed harder. "Well, I wasn't thinking you'd spin my axle, but you deserved that Lad. Really you did."

"I don't think it's funny," Rodimus retorted peevishly. He had moved automatically, as if Kup had truly been an assailant. Hair-triggered? Something worse?

"That's because you deserved it," Kup grinned. Rodimus got up fluidly and helped the old warrior to his feet.

"What makes you say that?" Rodimus demanded sourly, feeling that Kup was missing the point.

"Because Lad, if you are going to overcome what Sigma did to you, and more to the point, if you expect me to work with you, you are going to have to get used to telling me the truth for Cybertron's sake!"

Rodimus looked a bit blank.

"What's wrong that you are supposedly imagining? You nearly jumped out of your chair and scared the circuits out of me. You've been sitting there without a sound for a whole cycle and then out of nowhere you curse at nothing. What's wrong?"

Rodimus glared.

Kup grinned, unfazed.

"I thought I felt something out of the Matrix for a second, but I didn't," Rodimus growled.

"You sure...or just telling yourself that?"

Rodimus opted for getting back to work as an answer.

Kup shook his head.

x  
x  
x

Ratchet and Optimus exchanges stories and laughs and sorrows for a very long time. They didn't exclude Elita, but she did her best to sort of fade into the background and let them talk. Assassin that she was, this was an easy feat, even holding her mate's hand, but she didn't need those skills to achieve it.

She was pretty sure this was exactly what Optimus needed, and grew more and more certain that Ratchet knew that too. He never came right out and said anything. He let Optimus work things through for himself, but surely it was no coincidence that Ratchet made it very easy to compare Optimus' decisions and actions with those of Ratchet's un-tampered-with friend.

It would never undo what was done to her mate's mind, but it gave him a foundation to cling to.

x  
x  
x

"Would it be so bad if you did feel the Matrix Rodi?"

Rodimus growled. "It's a real mess in my head. Protecting the Matrix is part of my job, even if it's from me. Get Jazz on the line - we're gonna need him here today."

"He's still angry with you for leaving him when you went to Char," Kup informed him.

"Oh yeah?" Rodimus said.

"Yeah."

"Oh. Tough shit," Rodimus replied. "We've only got two more hours. I may be the most incompetent bastard the Autobots have ever been blighted with as a leader, but it doesn't do the Autobots any good for it to be so apparent."

Jazz, when he arrived, was still furious with Rodimus on a personal level he couldn't quite place, but he was professional enough not to show it or let it slow him down. Trouble was, he had been mostly assigned to help Rodimus with assassination supplies and so forth, so he was hardly more "in the know" than Rodi was.

Still the appointed hour of doom came with no immediate cataclysm. What arrived, precisely at 0500 hours was Blaster.

In he came, optics down, shuffling a stack of messages on digipads to match Optimus Prime's priorities.

"Boss-Bot you are definitely the number one on the hit charts today! I've got your fan mail here and...." Blaster stopped in his tracks, arm extended, and took note at last that the tired, somewhat cranky Autobot Commander in the chair was not the tired, somewhat cranky Autobot Commander he expected.

"You...you aren't Optimus Prime," Blaster stammered.

"So I've been told," Rodimus retorted.

"Is...is Optimus OK?" Blaster asked.

"He needed a break," Rodimus answered.

"Oh...good. You know...it is good to see you! Are you in the hot seat today?"

"Yup."

"All day?"

"Until further notice," Rodimus stated neutrally. They had no idea when or if Optimus would be fit for duty.

"Oh! So the Big Kahuna is taking a REAL vacation?! Did his better half go with him?"

"Do you see her here?"

"Um, no," Blaster admitted. He grinned a bit wickedly, "Does that mean YOUR mate is handling the trade conferences today?"

"BLASTER!" Jazz snapped.

"Trade conferences?!" Rodimus asked shrilly.

x  
x  
x

Cyclonus led Galvatron around the base as if he were a stranger...or one of those ridiculous Paradronian pilgrims. He felt strangely ashamed. Everything functioned, but the patchwork of repairs and jury-riggings were plainly visible. Things had gone downhill quickly after the Constructicons died.

He mentioned that in passing after they went past the gun batteries and Galvatron noted the open panels where make-shift repairs extended out past the turret's original housing.

Galvatron froze and shook his head, staring at Cyclonus in clear shock.

"The Constructicons are gone?"

"Surely my Lord remembers..." Cyclonus began.

"No...wait. Barely...." Galvatron's optics narrowed to mere slits. "Tell me what happened," he whispered.

"We are not entirely certain My Lord. Long Haul disappeared. The Constructicons were never...quite right after that. When he returned with no warning and no credible explanation the other Constructicons wanted nothing to do with him. He seemed fine to the rest of us, but they were adamant he was not who he seemed. My...my Lord felt a merge would settle any doubts and ordered them to form Devastator."

Galvatron's optics remained distant. "They nearly defied me...I had to threaten them with extermination to get them to comply."

"My Lord has never suffered insubordination," Cyclonus answered.

"No...but your Lord forced a merge on Decepticons who were clearly terrified. Constructicons! Terrified! Even with a plasma cannon in their faces Hook and Scrapper debated fighting me rather than merge...and the instant they did Devastator went AWOL," Galvatron murmured. "We all chased him...I remember...I remember the flight...the blasts."

"Yes...but he exploded before leaving Char. We don't know why," Cyclonus admitted. "Nothing we hit him with should have destroyed him as utterly as he was."

"Leaving us without enough collective competence to fix a rusting targeting platform," Galvatron growled.

Cyclonus opted once again to say nothing.

"We need resources...and we need recruits," Galvatron said grimly. Then he grinned.

"My Lord..." Cyclonus started, then hesitated.

Galvatron turned to stare at him, and Cyclonus hoped he would not regret what he now had to say.

"My Lord...I hope you will not find me impertinent...but it is an honor to finally meet you."

x  
x  
x

"It is my greatest honor to meet you, most revered Ancestors!" Kup said for the fourth time. "Rodimus?! Are you listening?"

"Revered ancestors...got it," Rodimus mumbled. He re-read the contract Elita had been working on, optics getting greener by the second.

Blaster and Kup were frantically trying to coach him on the protocols for dealing with the Sories and were clearly in a panic he wouldn't get it all down in time.

"Then you have to bow to them like this," Blaster demonstrated, preforming a complicated series of hand motions.

"And they say disco is dead," Rodimus growled. "Fifteen percent! Are they insane?"

"Elita was happy with that! They started at sixty percent!" Blaster informed him. He found the way Rodimus simply stared at him for an answer disconcerting. The communications specialist was finding a lot of Rodi's reactions a bit strange today, but he decided to focus on the task at hand. He did the bow again. "They'll be offended if you don't do it right! You need to practice this!"

To his amazement, Rodimus stood, still reading the contract, and performed the intricate motions without flaw...and without taking his optics off the digi-pad in his other hand. Kup took advantage of his being up from his seat to start polishing Rodi's dinged up spoiler.

"Your finish is a mess! Didn't you get cleaned up after that last fig...OUCH!" Kup yelped as Rodimus kicked him firmly and threw him a quelling glare.

"You learned that move even faster than Elita did!" Blaster remarked, optics wide. "How did you do that?"

"I've had motivation to learn moves fast," Rodimus answered obliquely. "Forget it Kup! We don't have time for a buff job."

" You can't go in there looking like a Junkion! They are going to walk out if you don't address them properly!" Kup was clearly having surges. His optics pulsed with agitation.

"Revered ancestors, honored to meet you, two bows after every 'yes', but three bows after every 'no' to show proper subservience and acceptance of their wisdom. Not to mention the safety protocols for working around their bloody methane! I got it Kup! Now give me that buffer before I decide you've gotten too personal!"

"Yeah," Blaster smirked. "He wants to save that for his girl-friend!"

"BLASTER!" Jazz cried.

Kup groaned in despair.

x  
x  
x

"I wonder how Rodi's day is going," Elita mused to herself. "I suppose he'll just have to ratify that contract as it stands."

"This will be like a vacation for him," Optimus assured her. "You won't believe the mission he had to run the other day." He related the events Rodimus had described to him as best he could. Ratchet's hologram flickered and First Aid suffered visible surges. Elita just squeezed Optimus' hand tighter.

Optimus stared hard at him mate. "Have you ever gone on a run like that? You would tell me...wouldn't you...if you had?"

"Orion...of course I would. Why are you even asking?" Elita soothed.

"Well...you are an assassin too. You learned from Lancer so you could help him, didn't you?"

Elita jerked, and then frowned. "That's very true...and yet I haven't, except for the raid on Char." Her optics dimmed. "Orion...I think there may be an implant there. I never helped him because I wasn't allowed to!"

Optimus' readings spiked. "Elita...I'm sorry. It's...it's a violating feeling isn't it?"

"Yes, but it only makes me more determined to win out against it. This has been the most horrible battle of our lives, but we will win Orion...and as soon as you are better we will give Rodimus the help he needs."

x  
x  
x

"I don't need your help Kup! I am perfectly capable of acting like an idiot all by myself," Rodimus snarled. The assassin Prime reflected that he never expected his time training with Lancer to be useful in this regard. Analyzing and in some cases imitating the moves of one's opponent were ingrained in her teaching style. He had the elaborate bows and scrapes he was supposed to perform memorized from the start. A good thing too, because Kup, while enthusiastically trying to impress on him the importance of bowing and scraping, was doing it entirely wrong.

"You need to get that gear-stripping tone out of your voice Lad! These are diplomats!" Kup chided forcefully. They were striding towards the conference room with only minutes to spare. Jazz went ahead of them to clear the way, and Blaster struggled to keep up and arrange digi-pads at the same time.

Rodimus came to a full stop. He plastered a totally believable, ingratiating smile all over his face, the very picture of sunny charm. He bowed with fluid flourish, moving with grace that was foreign to most of his kind, and yet was somehow predatory. "It is my greatest honor to meet you, most revered Ancestors," he said warmly. Blaster was duly impressed.

The smile vanished. "You forget who you're dealing with Kup," Rodimus grated.

"OK, OK...you can't blame me for worrying!" Kup said, relaxing a little. "Now just ratify this thing as fast as possible before something we forgot comes up!"

"Uh-huh," Rodimus said, looking over the digi-pad again. His optics waxed green again as he read it. They reached the conference room doors. Blaster shoved all the materials he was carrying into Kup's arms and went in to announce Rodimus. They had agreed to set the tone that the Sories were so important, that only a Prime could sign the final agreement, lest they be disturbed by the change in envoy.

Kup felt his suspicions rise again. Something told him there was rebellion brewing. "Rodi...please just sign it immediately!"

"Uh-huh," Rodimus said. He cocked his head, listening to Blaster announce him as "Unicron's destroyer" among other odd titles. "What? No trumpets?" he muttered to himself.

"Go!" Kup prodded. "Behave yourself!"

Rodimus threw him an evil smile that made Kup's fuel pump freeze. "Oh...I can promise you that!" The old warrior fought down a wild urge to tackle the young Prime as he strode into the conference room with that false, warm smile once again on his lip components. Jazz stood at attention on one side of the door and Blaster on the other as if they were some kind of honor guard. Before him was the long, gaudy conference room. The utilitarian Autobot furnishing were draped with miles of fabric and bubbling fountains - all to make their aquatic trading partners feel more at home. Ten Sorie envoys lined the table. Ranging between 10 and 15 feet in height they were too tall for the human chairs, too short for the Autobot chairs. So they sat in booster seats and bubbled in their liquid methane suits.

Methane. Anything that might cause a spark was totally illegal on their world. Made sense. But they weren't on their world, were they?

Rodimus smiled brightly at the diplomats. He held up the agreement he had come to sign for them to see with a flourish. Then he surpassed Kup's worst nightmares and threw it up into the air, drew his rifle from sub-space and blasted it in a shower of glittering sparks. He strode forward and slammed both fists down on the conference table with a boom that over-rode the shrieks of fear that were emanating from around the table.

"You have exactly five minutes to put something in front of me that doesn't look like an act of war! After that, we either have an agreement or you will get the hell off my planet one way or another! Clock's ticking! What's it gonna be boys?"

x  
x  
x

Elita watched her mate's vitals tick upward an agonizing mark at a time, fighting the urge to let her hopes soar.

"I'm really, really tired Ariel," Optimus whispered.

"I know," she answered sadly.

"I must tell you something. I shouldn't...I just have to. I love you so much. I'm more glad than I can tell you that we are together again, but there's some part of me that's...sorry...I'm going to make it yet again."

"Orion," Elita whispered, "Don't talk that way. One Prime with a death wish is enough for this world."

"It's true though. Megatron killed Orion, but I couldn't die. We were buried under Mount St. Hillary for millions of years, but I couldn't die. Then I finally did die, but the Quintessons revived me and made me their weapon...their slave. It...it was so degrading...violating. I freed myself...Rodi helped me...but then they did it again. Now I find out I've always been Vector Sigma's pawn. I want to rest. I want a while to just be...me."

Elita frowned and nodded. There were no words to ease what her mate was feeling, but she hoped to help him heal regardless. She had a thought forming on that but wasn't sure it would amount to anything, so she kept it to herself. Partly to distract her mate, partly because she was just surging with curiosity, she said, "Why don't we see how you partner is doing? The trade conferences should be done by now." She was expecting, at most, some dry news reports on the terms and implications of the agreement.

Ratchet obligingly activated a monitor for them...from across the room. First Aid yelped in surprise...and so did Elita. Instead of bland-faced Paradronian financial analysts, the was a swarm of reporters trying to outshout each other for Rodimus' sour faced attention. His optics weren't green but they were definitely pushing aqua. Kup and Blaster were standing on either side of him, but both seemed stunned and dull with energon depletion.

"WHY did you do it?" one reporter screamed shrilly.

"They were assuming we are so interested in their business that we would sign ourselves into voluntary plundering," Rodimus growled.

"Oh no....Rodimus you didn't!" Elita breathed, optics flaring.

'You fired a weapon in a methane enriched environment?!" Another reporter accused.

"Given the last set of terms they gave us, they are lucky I didn't aim at them," Rodimus stated blandly.

"Oh no....Rodimus you didn't!" Elita whispered.

"You threatened the entire Sorie entourage!"

"They started it," Rodimus hissed, and then he grinned wickedly.

"Looks like he did, Elita," Optimus whispered from down in her lap. "I'm sorry. I know you put a lot of work into that. Maybe he wasn't stable enough to return to duty either!"

On the monitor the reporters surged forward for better close-ups of Rodimus' somewhat demented looking smile.

"So what were the final terms?" another news-bot asked.

"TERMS?" Elita shrieked. "THEY DIDN'T DECLARE WAR?"

"Three percent tariff, no refueling fees, and we get to charge for protection fees if we end up defending some of their convoys," Rodimus smirked.

Elita's energon dropped, then surged so abruptly that Optimus, still cradled in her lap, actually heard her systems stall...then rev.

There was a upsurge in the already deafening garble of questions and clanking bodies. Human reporters ran for their lives as their Pardronian counter-parts forgot their manners.

Rodimus responded to a question the watchers in the Med-lab didn't fully hear.

"Yes, I know this is a different tactic than Elita was using and no I don't think she was being soft on them! She made a difficult choice to be accommodating, but just because she is patient and secure enough in herself to politely call people who's civilization is younger than she is 'ancestor' doesn't mean she should have to! The fact that she is tough enough to handle being disrespected does not mean I am willing to sit back and watch it happen. Besides, if we keep acting like the rest of the quadrant is doing us favors by trading with us, then they are going to keep taking advantage. The Sories are here because they want to be here. It is in their best interest to sign on and they know it...and now they know we do too. If they change their minds and bail then there are other systems who can profit nicely from our goods, our protection, and the surge in demand we are about to experience as our newlings come online. If anyone else wants a piece of the action they can come along and play nice, but if they expect me or any Autobot to kiss their aft, then they can suck fumes."

"Where is Elita...and where is Optimus?"

"Taking a vacation," Rodimus said.

"Now? Is this a good time?"

Rodimus laughed. "Define when exactly would be a good time for a Prime to go on vacation? .... What? No takers? Well I've got one for you...the time is when he needs one...as in now. Any other obvious things you need me to point out for you?"

Elita gazed somewhat blankly at the screen while Rodimus quickly, efficiently and sarcastically broke down the deal for the more statistically-minded reporters.

"He's crazy," she muttered to herself. Optimus didn't look at her - he watched his partner working the crowd.

"All those weeks of bowing and cajoling and catering to their whims..." Elita hissed.

"I'm sure it's frustrating watching him undo all your hard work Elita," First Aid sympathized.

"He didn't undo it! He surpassed it! Brilliant! I have never wanted to kill someone so badly in all my life!" Elita raged, optics flaring in fury. She legs quaked under Optimus' head, but he barely noticed.

"Huh?" First Aid asked. "If you are happy why are you mad at him?"

"BECAUSE I WISH I'D THOUGHT OF IT!" Elita roared. "All those sessions left me wanting to just blast them and their customs and their methane sky high! I should have just DONE it! And then that infuriating upstart just waltzes in there and....OOO!"

"Elita, my life-mate...you are crushing my shoulder," Optimus complained mildly. He didn't take his optics off the monitor. Rodimus was still man-handling reporters, answering or not answering with no apology. Kup lost most of the dazed look he had been wearing and was glaring at Rodimus behind his back. Blaster was grinning and apparently having a lovely time. Optimus finally found Jazz down in front of the reporters, trying vainly to control them, and moments later Blitzwing came in from somewhere to help push the crowd back.

"Oh! Orion! I'm sorry!" Elita cried, pulling her hand away from the dents she'd made. She made a visible effort to control herself. Her mate's optics smiled up at her.

"It's the least of my worries, Ariel-love, and under the circumstance I think you are entitled to a good rant," Optimus whispered.

"You aren't surprised...are you? You aren't surprised at all about how he handled it!" Elita cried. "If you knew what he'd do why didn't you let him deal with them months ago?"

Optimus chuckled. "Because I didn't know. It doesn't surprise me because he is Rodimus Prime. The unexpected is his forte', and he sows chaos wherever he goes. That's why he was chosen."

"Do you think it will help us long term?" Elita pondered, as much to herself and to Rodimus on the screen as to her mate.

Optimus chuckled again, this time bitterly. "I can't begin to analyze the future in this state Elita...honestly, watching him with all those cameras in his face and those shrill voices squeezing him for answers, all I could think was that I was glad it wasn't me!"

Continued in Pilgrimage 2 - Part E


	5. Chapter 5

Maelstrom Chapter 38

Pilgrimage 2

Author's note: This story is part of a LONG series called Maelstrom. It is strictly Gen. 1 - sorry, but that was all that was out when I started writing back in the late 1980's. It began as a fan-publication so the first chapters are in the form of a comic book! If you have not read the nine original **Maelstrom Comics** and the preceding text stories, I strongly suggest you do. This is a complex universe. They can be found at http// illmatar. deviantart. com (I have put double spaces between the URL here or FF . Net eats the link.) The comics and art which accompanies this series are there.

**Most chapters of this series contain strong language and violence. Rated M for adult themes! Really! Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Critiques adored! This scene contains strong language, violence, and sex. Rated M for adult themes! **

**  
Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Story and OC characters are mine. Critiques adored!  
**

Pilgrimage 2 - Part E

Continued From Pilgrimage 2 - Part D

Rodimus threw himself back into Optimus' chair with a groan that said "Why me?"

As soon as the door shut behind them the friends who trailed him started up. Blaster began laughing to the point he couldn't speak, Jazz glared at him sullenly, and Kup accused him (at length) of trying to give him a heart attack.

"Kup...you can't have a heart attack," Rodimus pointed out when Kup gave him an opening.

"It's a figure of speech!" Kup averred.

"Ah," Rodimus said sagely. "Is there more to this day or have I pissed off enough people for a few hours?" He cast an optic at Blaster, who simply laughed harder.

Jazz unbent just enough to smile slightly at his hysterical friend and take the digipad with the day's appointments out of Blaster's hand.

"Looks like your calendar is clear so it's just grinding the job the rest of the day," Jazz told him. "Plus whatever walk-ins come along."

"Joy," Rodimus snarled. "I'll go back to cramming then? I've only got...a year and eight months left to review. .... Blaster? Do you need a break?"

"Did...did you...see...their faces? Classic!" Blaster gasped. The communications specialist had been working with Elita and those condescending Sories for months. It wasn't his place to argue with the way his superiors chose to handle their allies, but it had made his energon boil watching them treat Elita with such contempt. He loved her for never letting it really get to her, never letting it cloud her judgement, and never letting it sour her real mood. When they started Blaster had been afraid she would be polite to the Sories and then take her obvious frustration out on those around her.

Never once had she done so. In Blaster mind that put her up for Saint of the Millennium.

Watching Rodimus stick it to the nasty bastards was big fun though. He laughed, wondering why the other three all seemed so sour in the face of such glorious triumph.

"Come on guys! Rod-man that was bad ass! You smoked 'em!"

Rodimus was in no mood to celebrate, but he did put on a smug look for Blaster's benefit. "I'll feel more like celebrating when I get caught up."

"Shame Rodi. Out of touch. Really been hanging out with your lady too much haven't you?" Blaster asked with a hint of a leer.

"BLASTER!" Jazz yelled.

x  
x  
x

Optimus slipped in and out of recharge mode, but this time each rest seemed to improve his status. At some point, Elita felt her tightly contained terror fall away and her mind automatically started formulating tactics to wrangle the future into line.

x  
x  
x

Cyclonus and Galvatron finished their tour of their base and the area around it. Galvatron said less and less as the tour went on. The one order he gave when the sight-seeing was over gave Cyclonus surges. The Decepticon commander ordered the Predacons and Stunticons to clear the rubble in a two mile radius around the base. He wanted a clear line of sight for any intruders who might pay a call. It was something Cyclonus had been recommending on and off for years, but which Galvatron had always refused to allow.

"Anyone who dares invade will meet their ends!" had been one "reason". "No one shall disturb my Empire of Devastation!" had been another. Privately Cyclonus always felt Galvatron's chaotic mind preferred a chaotic landscape. Now the chaos was to be cleared away.

x  
x  
x

"Almost done?" Kup asked.  
"Getting to the end of the review, if that's what you mean," Rodimus snarled. "The job that needs doing is absolutely mammoth. Vector Sigma just perforated our infrastructure with weaknesses and I'm going to have to find excuses to countermand an awful lot of Op's work the last few years. I don't know how to change it all without making it look like we're both idiots who can't make up their minds what we're doing."

"One mile at a time Lad. It didn't all happen in a day, it doesn't all need to be fixed in a day either."

Rodimus scowled. "Every day I'm here there are kids losing their lives out there."

Kup patted his shoulder. "We need another approach there anyway. You are just spinning your wheels on that front."

Blaster poked his head in. "Ambassador Witwicky here to see you Prime."

Rodimus was glad Transformers didn't go pale with shock. He thought about asking something stupid like "Does he have an appointment?"

Blaster grinned, having no idea Rodi would be less than thrilled to see Spike. "I'll send them in," he said cheerfully.

"Them?" Rodimus asked. Too late. Blaster had already ducked back out. Rodimus heard the outer doors to the command center open and heard a surge in noise. The herd of reporters was still out there, undaunted by his retreat into the command center. They were screaming questions at Spike as he made his way inside. Why...why would Spike stage a public meeting without consulting him in advance?

And then the answer assaulted Rodimus as the Ambassador strode in...with Shellshock and the milling gaggle of photo-journalists in tow.

The former Autobot's appearance was drastically altered. The long, unkempt hair and beard were gone - replaced by a short crew cut and a manicured line of facial hair that traced his jaw and ended in a tailored goatee. Both the hair and the beard were dyed a raven's black, which only served to make the goldish tint of his skin more distinct.

"Rodimus Prime," the Ambassador said smoothly. "I came to congratulate you on the trade agreement with the Sories and to introduce you to my new body-guard. This is Lance Vortex. He is in charge of my personal security. With what happened to my son I'm sure you understand why I feel the need for more protection. After all, the Autobots can't always be there for me."

Rodimus wanted to explode. They were forcing his hand! "Lance Vortex" indeed! That was just...cheesy! It might as well be Lancer Maelstrom! As if the hair dye and the shave were going to disguise Shellshock from anyone! Amongst the somewhat competitive Maelstrom crew, bounties for his head were the highest. They were creating a visible alliance between the Autobots and the Maelstrom...or at least between Spike and the Maelstrom! Even if he somehow convinced Spike to fire his new "body-guard" images of the two of them walking in together were surely already being broadcast around the quadrant! No doubt the mere sight of this eight-foot tall walking wall coming in with the Ambassador would set of a flurry of discussion on the media. Did the Ambassador think the Autobots were incapable of protecting him? What had happened to the Ambassadors son anyhow? Speculation as to how and why he was murdered would start up all over again. As far as the public knew, Daniel was murdered at random and Carly was the unfortunate witness to it all, but the inevitable conspiracy theories had had their air time. Now there would be a revival of those, as well as speculation that things between the Bots and their beloved ambassador weren't as cozy as people assumed.

Rodimus ground his jaw until the gears whined. He couldn't even protest here in the office, not with reporters standing there! He saw a smug glint in Spike's eyes and knew the human was enjoying every minute of Rodi's anxiety. That Spike was so vindictive didn't surprise Rodimus for a moment. Rodimus knew how one, life-changing moment could drive you insane. Shellshock surprised him though. Revenge driven yes...but not stupidly so. Goldbug's corpse stood there, cold and bold....so out for revenge he was ready to bring down Earth and Cybertron in one idiotic, audacious stroke.... Wait...

No.

No. Shellshock wouldn't agree to this without good reason. Every beat of his heart was out to bring the Jabez down - not sacrifice all of Earth and Cybertron in a futile move. He also abided by the "laws" of the Maelstrom's crew. If he was here, they must have voted on it...they just left Lancer out of the loop.

What could they possibly be thinking?

What was it Kup had just said? Rodimus was spinning his wheels. Killing off minor slaving operations like he was cutting heads off the Hydra. Each one he brought down gave two more an opening. He needed a new strategy...something that broke through the walls of secrecy that led up the hierarchy to those close to the Jabez. The Sponsors and Slavers never knew about his work, but they knew about Shellshock's. By the time Shellshock got involved the time for covert action was done. The Maelstrom made very sure their targets either never knew what hit them, or were painfully aware the Maelstrom had paid them a call. If Shellshock was on the scene it was time for open punishment. And yet there were no clear images of his face on the bounty lists...just an overall description.

Would the bad-guys assume this body-guard was really Shellshock? Would they merely wonder? If they did wonder would they assume Spike knew who he was working with? Would they guess that Spike knew what really happened to Daniel? Would they wonder if Shellshock was using Spike position for some reason without Spike's knowledge? Would they see it as an opening to maybe land the Maelstrom at last? Surely this move would spark lots of questions, but it wouldn't REALLY define an alliance between the Maelstrom and the Autobots. It would just make people very, very nervous....maybe even nervous enough to mess up?

This insanity was Spike and Shellshock's way of shaking the tree. Brilliant. Infuriating. Terribly, terribly risky.

They stared at him. He stared back. Spike arched a sardonic eyebrow.

So. Spike assumed Rodimus dished it out, but couldn't take it.

"Nice to meet you Lance," Rodimus said warmly. "What's your background for this kind of work? We always assumed our implicit protection was enough for Ambassador Witwicky, but we were tragically wrong about that."

"There are always mentally unbalanced people around, Rodimus Prime. We may never learn who killed the Ambassador's son, or why they did it, but it very well could be a random act of violence that had nothing to do with the family's relationship with you. My job is to see that no further tragedy befalls this family," Shellshock rumbled in his resonating baritone. "My credentials," he said, handing Rodimus a digipad. The young Prime looked over the "background" he was presented and smiled to himself. Very plausible and thorough. He knew if he looked this past up he would find records all the way back to a birth-certificate. Oh the delicate dance they were waltzing... giving such a rock solid background to such a blatant, stupid alias. Or was "Lance Vortex" just dumb enough to be a real name?

Rodimus thought on that for a moment. Robert was a good enough hacker to have placed an entire family tree for the esteemed "Vortex" family all the way back to the Middle Ages. That black outfit with the obvious body armor and strategically placed suspicious bulges looked right out of the middle ages in spite of the modern materials.

"These are very impressive," Rodimus smiled, handing the credentials back and meaning it. "We are grateful for any help you can give Ambassador Witwicky. Officially, he's our only Ambassador, but around here he's also good old Spike, and most of my people regard him as one of us."

Shellshock nodded and met his optics with a bit of an ironic smile. Spike seemed slightly... surprised. Rodimus felt a bit of bitter amusement. He somehow knew... they'd had a bet with each other over his response. Spike lost.

"We are heading back to Earth directly," Spike told him curtly. "I want to address the UN again about the screening process at their space ports. You've been pushing for years on tighter security and their foot dragging has gone on too long. It may have even cost Daniel his life."

"Thank you Ambassador. We have our hands full enough around here without so many drugs and stolen goods making their way through.... You know...you know how much we all miss your son. Me especially. I hate to think my best friend died just so some junkie could pay for his next high."

"Daniel's death won't be in vain," Spike hissed. "I promise you."

"Take care of him, Mr. Vortex. Let me know if I can help in any way," Rodimus said, completely sincerely.

x  
x  
x

Magnus and Marissa watched the news crews following Shellshock's immobile and impressive visage out of Prime's office. Magnus had been sitting stock still for nearly an hour - one son asleep in each arm.

"Rodi's having quite a day," Marissa remarked dryly.

"Poor Kup...I'm so glad it's him there and not me!" Magnus retorted.

x  
x  
x

First Aid took a call on his private frequency with some annoyance. He was completely preoccupied with Optimus Prime's agonizingly slow recovery.

"Whoever this is it had better be an em....Arcee? No! No I didn't forget about y...! 100%? How do you kn...? OK! OK! Get right over... Of course I'll meet...I mean... I'll be right there!" He tore out of Med-Lab without a backward glance or a goodbye.

Ratchet looked amused. "Must be a custom in this dimension," he said to his patient and Elita.

Seeing he wasn't worried let Optimus and Elita relax and chuckle too.

x  
x  
x  
"This day can not possibly get any weirder!" Rodimus announced once he and his lieutenants were alone and going over records again.

Kup grunted assent, but Jazz said, "Never say never Rod-Man."

Blaster poked his head in again, "Ratchet just called to let us know First Aid is off helping Arcee. Little Solstice is on her way!" He popped back out with a grin.

Rodimus closed both optics and held his head. Jazz snickered just a bit. Instead of answering Rodimus decided to grind through the rest of Optimus' work files. It took him the balance of the afternoon to get through them all, and then begin outlining possible problems he foresaw. That left one more section of files to go through.

There they sat, just as they had when Rodimus first took over. Just as tempting and forbidden as they had on that long ago, frightening night when a brand new Rodimus, Kup, an Magnus had gone through Optimus' things. Surely...that was someone else's lifetime?

Optimus Prime's personal files. Not his work files. Not even his working diary. His personal, off-duty, nobody's business but mine files. In other words, what Optimus really thought about Life, the Universe, and Everything.

Last time, Rodi had been too nervous and too guilty to invade. Last time, Rodimus had concluded what Optimus thought and did on his free time was off limits to everyone, even himself. Even when understanding the mech who proceeded him would have been comforting at least. Even though it might have made Optimus mortal in Rodimus' optics, instead of legendary.

Rodimus glared at the folder. What Optimus thought had been tampered with. On the one hand, this was no longer a dead Autobot who would never know or care if Rodimus got nosy. On the other, this was THE senior officer in the Autobot army and his mind had been invaded. Was it that Rodimus had no right to pry or an obligation to find out how far the damage went? And then there was the matter of his troubled relationship with his partner. It had to get better. The survival of their people dictated the Primes re-establish a healthy partnership. Would looking help or hurt? Even if Optimus never found out Rodimus had been snooping, was Rodi strong enough himself to tolerate knowing what Optimus really thought about him? Even knowing Vector Sigma had manipulated Optimus into hating Rodimus didn't fully ease the sting of it. What if this little Pandora's Box contained a little shrine to the evils of Rodimus Prime?

Decisions, decisions.

He looked over the memory usage and the times Optimus was logged into this particular set of files. Lots of capacity there. Lots of time working on it. Must be important...look at all those hours logged on AFTER duty hours.

Rodimus sighed and shook himself. He decided he would just have to be mature enough to handle whatever his ailing partner wrote during his off shifts.

He started working on the password.

"Rodimus? What are you doing?" Kup asked.

"What I have to," Rodimus answered grimly.

"You keep telling yourself that, Rodi," Jazz sneered, looking over both their shoulders. "You just keep telling yourself that."

"Those files are encrypted. They're personal! You'll never get past the security on them!" Kup remarked, looking uncomfortable.

Rodimus' optics narrowed and flared green. Kup was still clueless Rodi had been hacking into command accounts since he was activated. He went with the obvious first...no need to break out the gear if he could guess the password. "Orion Pax" didn't work. Neither did "Ariel" or "Elita One." He tried getting into his partner's head just a bit. What was the last word anyone would expect Optimus to use for a password?

Rodimus smirked to himself. He wouldn't even need any of his real hacking skills. With absolute confidence he typed in "Megatron."

The folder opened up like a blossoming flower and Kup gasped in horror.

Optimus' private world was laid out for Rodimus to see. He stared, optics flaring so brightly the monitor screen reflected emerald. Page after page of data. Neatly laid out, cross-referenced in an intricate spread-sheet of statistics, facts, and analysis. Obviously Optimus had been working on this project since before his first death.

Jazz actually chuckled and Kup sighed in relief, "Oh...that's not so bad."

Rodimus crushed the edge of the desk in fury and then took off without a word.

Jazz and Kup looked at each other.

"Of all things...." Kup wondered aloud, "Why would Optimus encrypt this?"

"Not a clue, Man....and even if I had one I wouldn't get what has the young boss so pissed off about it. Rodimus is just nuts if you ask me."

The folder contained nothing but information on the players, teams, and games of Earth's International Basketball Association.


End file.
